


The Truth Between

by LeandraLocke



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Depressed Jim, Eventual break-up, Five Year Mission, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Jim, Oblivious Spock, Pining, Slow Burn, Some Humor, Some Sex, Some angst, Spock/Uhura are still together, Star Trek Beyond, bones is a great friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2019-10-07 05:15:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 65,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17359691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeandraLocke/pseuds/LeandraLocke
Summary: All truths are easy to understand once they are discovered; the point is to discover them.- Galileo GalileiWhen the Enterprise embarks on her five-year mission, Jim and Spock have settled into an easy and close friendship. But that friendship is threatened when Jim's feelings start to shift towards something more - something that he is sure cannot be fulfilled.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic after two-years writer's block. The story is complete (approx 21 chapters, ~60k words) and is only being beta-read at the moment. 
> 
> I aim to publish a chapter every week, or as quickly as my lovely beta-reader Tati can finish the chapters. She's doing an amazing job so far and has helped me not only smooth out the kinks in wording and grammar but also provided so much insight and feedback around the structure and characterisation. Tati, thank you so, so much for the work you've already done! This has already become a way better fic than I could have accomplished without you!! 
> 
> A note on the Spock/Uhura relationship, in case you're wondering: They are still together at present and will be for a while. Without spoiling too much, I will simply tell you that I love Nyota and aimed to treat her with respect and admiration, even if the things I've put her through aren't pleasant. (The events of the fic culminate in the events of Beyond.)
> 
> If you enjoy the fic, please let me know.

**_Yorktown, Stardate 2263.2_ **

Shore leave. No matter how much everyone on board the Enterprise loves their job, there comes a time when each member of the crew needs some time off. To see something different than the vastness of space and the bluish tinted light of stars as they swoop by at warp speed. To experience the feeling (or to have a resemblance, at least) of being on firm ground again. To escape the constricting confinements of regulation standard cabins, mess halls, and limited recreation spaces.

To reconnect with old friends, family, and loved ones. And maybe get away from a few people they spent too much time with.

Shore leave really is what keeps the crew morale up, even through the longest, most taxing voyages into deep space.

But the leave everyone so desperately needed - the break for Jim to get away from all of this and think - is cut short before it has even really started when a non-federation vessel reaches the star base with alarming news.

A few hours later, their mission is clear. Jim knows what he has to do and is ready to leave the commodore’s office to get to work.

“Captain,” the Commodore starts, and Jim turns around again. “Starfleet Command sent me your application for the vice-admiral position here in the installation.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Jim replies as she looks at him intently. He feels something heavy pull at his gut. “Erm… If I may, I would recommend Commander Spock replace me as captain of the Enterprise. He is an exemplary Starfleet officer. He’d make a great captain.”

She’s still looking at him, studying him with that particular look that, despite her having a completely different personality, reminds him of Pike.

“It isn't uncommon, you know,” she starts, her tone softer, more personal. “Even for a captain, to want to leave. There is no relative direction in the vastness of space. It is only yourself, your ship, your crew. It's easier than you think to get lost.”

“It’s not about--” Jim wants to interrupt her.

“I’ll bring it up with the General Council,” she continues before he can finish. It is advice she’s giving him to consider during the mission. “We'll discuss it when you return.”

“Ma'am,” Jim says and takes his leave.

If only it were just that…

  
  


**_Three and a half years earlier_ **

 

When Jim came to, the first thing he saw was a dim, white-ish light around him and a blurry glow of blue. His first thought, before his conscious mind could have protested such nonsense, was that this must be heaven. He had died, after all. When his gaze was able to focus properly, however, and he saw Bones’ face looking as grumpy as ever, he was pretty damn sure that he couldn’t be in heaven.

“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic. You were barely dead,” was how he was greeted, and for a moment he easily believed it.

“It was the transfusion that really took its toll. You were out cold for two weeks,” Bones continued to explain as he scanned Jim’s vitals.

“Transfusion?” Jim asked, still trying to catch on. He definitely _had_ died, he remembered it all too vividly. The warp core and his desperate attempt to fix it. The excruciating pain of his entire body being destroyed inside and out…

“Your cells were heavily irradiated. We had no choice.”

Jim frowned, trying to piece together the puzzle. “Khan?” he asked then, catching on faster than he would have thought himself capable after such an ordeal.

“Once we caught him, I synthesised a serum from his super blood,” Bones explained as if the whole matter had been nothing more than producing flu medicine, and Jim was grateful for it, not yet ready to let his mind drift to the direction of what his death must have meant for his best friend. “Tell me, are you feeling homicidal? Power mad? Despotic?”

“No more than usual,” Jim replied, humouring him. “How'd you catch him?”

“I didn't,” Bones replied and, after a short pause, stepped aside from the bed to give Jim a line of sight to the door. The figure he saw standing there approached the medbed with a solemn expression and careful steps that seemed a lot less determined than his usual brisk stride. The sight made something in Jim’s chest flutter. With gratitude, affection, and a residue of the sorrow he had felt then. Behind the glass in his last moments.

“You saved my life”, he said softly, his weak smile barely able to convey the extent of gratitude he felt for his first officer. For his friend.

“Uhura and I had something to do with it, too, you know,” Bones piped in, now on the other side of his bed, by the screen monitoring his immediate vital signs. Jim just ignored him,  although he would have rolled his eyes at him, had he the energy for it.

“You saved _my_ life, Captain,” Spock countered, his voice softer than Jim had ever heard it. “And the lives of--”

“Spock,” Kirk stopped him, not wanting this to be a quid pro quo. “Just. Thank you.”

There was an almost-smile on Spock’s lips as he looked down at his captain. “You are welcome, Jim.”

He felt the urge to reach out, to complete what he could not have done with the glass separating them before everything had gone dark. But something in him stopped Jim, and he didn’t bother contemplating whether it was just his tiredness and the fact that Spock stood in his typical fashion with his hands behind his back, or something else.

But he hoped Spock knew, that he could see it on his face just how grateful he was, how lucky he felt to be alive. He was actually alive. Actually alive, despite all odds. It was funny how that fact only slowly started to fully sink in. He had _died_. And Spock had watched him do so, had been there with him till the end. He vaguely remembered his face, stricken with pain and sadness, and everything that had stood between them in the days leading up to that moment, the feeling of betrayal, of thinking Jim didn’t mean half as much to Spock as Spock did to him. That all had crumbled as if it had never happened, had never been real.

Jim still felt the aftertaste of sadness for his friend, a bittersweet weight in the pit of his stomach, sweet for knowing he was mourned and bitter for knowing he had been the cause for Spock’s grief.

He didn’t know what else to say, the brief boost of energy he got for awakening after… what had Bones said? ...two weeks? of a coma dissipating in a fatigue that hit him full on, warm and lulling. His doctor didn’t seem to have missed it.

“You should rest now,” he told Jim, who barely could keep his eyes open long enough to see Bones exchanging a glance with Spock. The Vulcan’s face, looking at him once more with a similar speechless reverie, was the last thing Jim saw before sleep fell upon him.

 

~*~

 

In the following two weeks of Jim’s recovery, he received more visitors than Bones would have liked. He showed his disapproval clearly by insisting Jim needed rest, and that four Ensigns there at the same time was a bit too much. Jim, however, was grateful for the visits, exhausting as they sometimes were, because - who was he kidding -  dying and coming back from the dead through the super blood of a genetically engineered maniac was kind of taxing. Nevertheless, they kept him busy, kept his thoughts in the here and now and farther from _then_.  

It was a strange thing that the true impact of what he had been through had only started to manifest in his consciousness in the days following his waking up. He frequently dreamed of the blinding light inside the warp core chamber, of the burning feeling in his lungs as if each breath he took was poison. Of the seemingly thin pane of glass separating him from the world outside, from any chance of survival. From Spock. And Spock’s face - the memory of it refreshed and deepened over the days as well - was haunting him even during his waking hours, whenever he was alone in the hospital room.

He had long ago learned that the outwardly reserved Vulcan was, indeed, capable of emotions, of caring for others. What he never would have thought possible was to see Spock so wrecked with grief that he’d actually shed tears. His angular features softened by sorrow, eyes glistening with moisture, voice cracking as he told Jim he’d saved the crew. It was the most empathic, _kind_ thing Spock could have said in that moment. He’d known it was what Jim needed to hear above everything else. Must have known that this fact alone had made the pain in Jim’s body and his fear of death somewhat bearable. To help him find the peace that he so desperately required in those last moments.

He hadn’t wanted to die. There’d still been so much he hadn’t done, hadn’t seen. Discoveries to be made, memories with his friends and everyone he cared about uncreated. Truths to be shared and found out. Maybe finding someone to complete him, the way Uhura and Spock obviously completed each other. And if not all that, at least to say goodbye to all of them. To Scotty, Uhura, Chekov, Sulu and Bones. Poor Bones who, despite all his exasperation with Jim, cared about him deeply and who was more of a brother to Jim than his estranged sibling had been for years.

But Spock had been there, and strangely, from all the people that could have come to the glass, to be there with him in his final moments, Jim would have picked none other than his first officer. Or maybe he would have, before. Memories were tricky like that and often made you believe that a truth you learned at some point had been true for you all along. But the truth was, now, and in those final moments, that having Spock there by his side while he felt his strength, his life, leave him, just felt right. As if, in all the universe, there had never been a different option. And maybe, if he allowed himself to believe for just a moment in something like destiny, the chain of all those random events that had brought them together as captain and first officer was precisely for that moment. So he wouldn’t have to die alone.

When Jim replayed those moments in his mind - often involuntarily, but sometimes deliberately - this feeling of rightness became more and more pronounced. At first, he had thought that Spock, being Vulcan, could help him find solace, be it by words or his mere presence alone. After all, Vulcans could control their emotions, their fear and anguish over certain death. Maybe, if just by being there or by saying the right words, Jim could have found the same ability in himself. But then, Spock had told him that he was failing at not feeling, and tears had fallen from his cheek, and in a way that felt like contradiction itself, it had somehow made it easier for Jim, while making it harder at the same time.

In those last few moments, last breaths he took, last seconds his eyes had been able to see, he’d not been eased from feeling but filled with it. Loss, grief, sympathy. Affection and the knowledge of being cared for, being grieved. It had drowned out the physical pain, had replaced the sizzling, throbbing fire in his every fibre of his being with something warm and lulling, and heavy and dark at the same time. It had been amazing and horrible, but it had been _something_ , something that gave worth to his death and his life.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Jim wondered how much self-worth he had had in him before then. But it was something he didn’t want to dwell too much on.

Jim wanted to thank Spock, not only for saving his life, as he had already done, but for being there with him. For showing him how deeply he cared and easing the moment of his death. But Spock never came alone again after that first day, always with Uhura, or just briefly when Bones was fussing over Jim, and the urge to tell him faded slowly as Jim’s condition improved. Maybe it would have been awkward - for Jim himself and for Spock as well. And so, two and a half weeks after waking up in the hospital, Jim was finally released, and he hadn’t told Spock anything.

He wouldn’t get a chance to do so for the next two months, with everyone being much too busy and Spock being Spock. After that, he had no more than two, maybe three minutes alone with his first officer between meetings with the admiralty or engineering teams who undertook repairs and modifications. Business as usual, strictly professional. No soft, teary gazes full of regret and emotion, or the level of closeness Jim had felt then. And - he kept telling himself - that was okay.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's the second chapter. Million thanks for all the nice comments and many kudos!!! <3
> 
> My beta-reader just finished chapter 4. If she continues to do 2 chapters per week on average, I will speed up the intervals in the future and post two chapters per week. 
> 
> A small note on Sulu and Ben: I pondered whether I should make them have Demora as a biological child (which I'm sure is possible in the 23rd century, as it already is today, in theory). I decided against it mainly based on timeline reasons. She seems to be roughly 5-6 years old in Beyond, meaning she'd have been born at least a year before the Nero mission. But since we only learn he's married in Beyond, never having seen that wedding ring on him before or any mention of Demora, it seemed more likely that it was something that only happened around the time of the second movie. Also, as my beta-reader pointed out, adopting a kid and giving them a chance instead of creating one is a good thing and something that will probably still be necessary in the 23rd centuries because, sometimes, parents die.

Jim felt giddy and maybe a tiny bit nervous. After all, it was the first time Spock visited him in his private apartment. He briefly wondered whether the orderly Vulcan would disapprove of some of the, well, rather liberal interpretations of tidiness Jim followed in his own home. He’d probably take a ruler out to adjust the stacks of books on Jim’s coffee table to align with its edges. Actually, Spock probably wouldn’t _need_ a ruler for that. The thought made Jim chuckle as he went to arrange his couch cushions a little more neatly and fold the blanket he’d used last night while watching some old holos. Despite the decreasing temperatures, he’d kept a window open, smelling the slightly salty, fresh and crisp air that came in from the bay. After all, if everything went according to plan, he wouldn’t get to enjoy that particular scent for a long, long time.

They could have met in one of the many conference and meeting rooms at Headquarters, but what they had to discuss today was of such great impact to their personal lives that Jim had felt a more private surrounding was in order. He’d prepared some tea - a special blend of green teas from Japan that Sulu had sent him when visiting home - knowing that his first officer didn’t really drink alcohol socially but seemed to enjoy a large variety of teas. Jim was more of a coffee kind of guy, but on cool winter evenings as this, tea did have its appeal.

Jim checked the clock on the sideboard as he made literal last-minute adjustments to the setting on the table, and sure enough, just within a second of the digit switching from 19:59 to 20:00 he heard the chime of his apartment’s door.

“Wow, Spock, did you stand there and wait for the hands of the clock to change to twenty-hundred so you’d be punctual by the second?” Jim teased just after having opened the door. He took Spock in, clad in shades of black and charcoal, the familiar Starfleet uniform underneath a rather thick looking Vulcan civilian coat. His black hair glistened with the faintest droplets of moisture that it must have caught in the soft drizzle outside.

A black eyebrow was raised. “I assure you, captain, the internal clock of Vulcans is far superior to that of humans. Therefore, it is not an extraordinary occurrence for me to--”

“Spock, stop. I was just messing with you,” Jim said, briefly grasping his first officer’s upper arm in a greeting touch. “Please come in.”

Spock nodded curtly and entered the apartment as Jim closed the front door behind him.

“Let me take your coat,” Jim said, feeling the tiniest bit sheepish after the words had left his lips. He sounded like either a waiter at a fancy restaurant or someone on a date.

Spock, however, didn’t seem to notice any hilarity in the offer and merely slipped out of the garment and handed it to Jim, who put it in the coat closet next to the door.

“So, how have you been?” Jim asked as he led the way to the sitting area, feeling the need to break the ice with what Spock would surely deem as unnecessary human small talk.

“I am adequate,” Spock replied, hands clasped behind his back and standing next to the couch. “I believe your recovery has progressed satisfactorily?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m as good as new,” Jim smiled. He had had his last session of physiotherapy two weeks ago, and his sleep was not perturbed by dreams of dying as often as it had been in the beginning. He motioned towards the couch, stepping around the coffee table to it from the opposite side. “Please, take a seat, Spock.”

As they both sat down, Jim started pouring them some tea from the Chinese tea set he had just acquired yesterday. Kind of specifically for tonight, but he pushed that thought aside.

Spock accepted and took the small cup in his hands, sniffing its contents briefly. “Green tea. The blend Lieutenant Sulu favours, I believe?”

“Wow, look who has a really talented nose,” Jim said with a grin, watching in amusement as one of Spock’s eyebrows briefly twitched upwards.

Jim took a careful sip of the hot beverage, deciding he needed to add a little bit of sugar to it, and unsurprised that Spock did not.

“So, as you may guess, I didn’t just invite you over for tea,” Jim started after a few moments. Though, normally, there wouldn’t have been anything wrong with that. In fact, the thought of just socializing with Spock without any professional preamble did seem appealing. But that was not what they did.

“I have surmised as much,” Spock replied, setting the cup down. “In fact, Captain, I--”

“Please, it’s Jim, remember?” Jim interrupted. “I mean, it’s official business I want to talk to you about, but I don’t want to discuss it merely as a captain with his first officer. I want to talk to you about it as friends.”

“Very well, Jim,” Spock replied. “I am aware of the human need to broach topics of great impact gently. I can, however, assure you, that this will not be necessary. As I intended to say, I have calculated the probabilities of topics that would compel you to need discuss them in a private setting--”

“Not so much _compel_ ,” Jim interjected again, wondering where Spock was going with this. He couldn’t possibly know what Jim wanted to speak about, could he? After all, as far as he knew, what he was about to tell him wasn’t exactly public knowledge.

“Very well, then shall I say: make you feel obliged to do so,” Spock conceded, and well, that did sound a little bit better, if not completely right. “I assume the circumstances to want to discuss the subject in private point to a matter of immense impact. As your mood and your wording in your invitation suggest no negative implications, I can only conclude that you have been offered the five-year mission and seek my approval, which--”

“Who told you about that?” Jim asked, bewildered.

“Lieutenant Uhura did,” Spock replied and, seeing the continued look of confusion and surprise on Jim’s features, continued, “I believe, as a human with a distinct interest in obtaining information on matters that were not officially disclosed to you, you will find it unsurprising that the news of Starfleet’s intentions have not been kept off the record for long.”

“Are you telling me I’m gossipy?” Jim asked, half affronted, half amused at the accurate observation.

“I am saying that, should I express it with a human idiom, the gossip mill, which you usually seem to enjoy taking part in, works overtime. Particularly after the events of last summer, and even more particularly in regards to Starfleet’s intentions to restore its own marred reputation by refocusing on its purpose to explore rather than seek conflict. The information that Starfleet was considering the Enterprise for such a prolonged mission reached me eleven days ago through Lieutenant Uhura, who heard it from Ensign Rodník of the engineering department, who heard it from her superior officer, who is the son of Admiral Castillo.”

For a few moments, Jim didn’t know what to say. He was astounded not only of the fact that Spock had known about this all along but also that he seemed so well connected to what he had called the gossip mill.

“So, you already know. Way to ruin a surprise, Spock.”

Spock merely raised an eyebrow at him. “The human custom of wanting to surprise others is illogical. Therefore, bestowing a surprise on me would not have had the effect you intended.”

“What, you’re saying you can never be surprised?”

“I can be met with happenstances, with events and information that I did not foresee. However, in this instance, the point in time of my learning this information is of no consequence to me.”

Sometimes talking with Spock really was a bit frustrating. Jim briefly wondered if there was something that could ever genuinely surprise him. Positively and pleasantly, of course. He was not going to think of any pranks right now, only to possibly end up being nerve-pinched again as the result.

“Well then, I guess you’ve already made up your mind about whether you’re on board or not?” he asked, feeling a little lame and underwhelmed.

Spock nodded. “I have, indeed. I have no objections.”

“Fine,” Jim said, the feeling intensifying into mild annoyance and disappointment. But then again, had he really expected enthusiasm? Nah. Some contemplation nevertheless, some sign that it did feel like a big step to Spock. After all, a five-year mission in deep space meant hardly any contact to… well, did Spock even have any friends outside of the crew? Of course, contact with his father would be limited, but Jim had never gotten the impression that it was an overly close relationship to begin with.

“Naturally, I have also discussed the subject with Lieutenant Uhura as I do assume you wish to keep her as Communications Officer.”

“I do,” Jim said immediately despite that odd feeling of disappointment… or something else he couldn’t pinpoint in his gut. “Of course I want to keep her. She’s the best out there. And I’m glad this step is no problem for you guys. I’d hate for it to split you up.” He meant it. And yet… that odd feeling remained.

Spock’s brows furrowed ever so slightly. “You are not content with the course of this conversation.” It was more of a statement than a question.

Jim suppressed a groan, not knowing how to put into words what he, himself, didn’t fully understand. “No, it’s fine, Spock. It’s just… I don't know. I had this, this expectation of telling you first of all my crew. Because, well, you’re my first officer.” And my friend. And probably the most important member of my crew, professionally and personally. “Illogical, I know.”

“Indeed it is,” Spock replied. Yet, there was something on his features that made them look softer, somehow less detached. “However, if I were to experience such sentiment I would be flattered.”

That, at last, made a smile appear on Jim’s features. Five years in space. With Spock. And hopefully the rest of his senior staff. Bones would hate it but he’d come. Chekov would probably be all for it, so would Scotty. Sulu could be a problem. After all, he and his boyfriend had just adopted a little girl and were going to get married in a few months. Jim would understand if Sulu said no, but he’d surely miss him on board.

No matter how the talks with the rest of his crew turned out - after all, they still had several months - he was more than glad that he’d have Spock by his side.

“So, since we’ve got that out of the way and I don’t intend to let you leave so soon, what shall we do with the rest of the evening?” he asked, feeling suddenly bolder.

Spock raised an eyebrow again and Jim already thought he’d inform him that socialising just for the sake of it was illogical, when Spock’s gaze suddenly travelled to the 3D chess set on the sideboard behind Jim.

“I would not be averse to a game of chess,” he said. “That is if you feel your abilities are adequate to mine.”

It made Jim laugh. “More than that. I’m gonna kick your ass from here to Romulus!”

“A curious metaphor, Jim. And a highly unlikely outcome. However, you may… surprise me.”

And Jim did. By barely hanging onto victory on the third match they played that night. But he’d take small victories anyway.

 

~*~

 

After that evening, Jim only saw Spock again for meetings and talks with other Starfleet officials. Of course, the man was busy, working with a team of science officers to equip the new labs, designing and installing new or improved monitoring programs and whatever else a chief science officer did. Jim only had to approve of the plans - or disapprove if he saw fit, but with Spock being Spock, the latter naturally never happened.

Winter passed, spring came and with it Sulu and Ben’s wedding. It was celebrated in the gardens of a very old, small hotel surrounded by vineyards. Spock was there, of course, Uhura by his side and looking radiant in a coral dress. They did make a beautiful pair, and Jim wondered if (or when) they’d tie the knot, too. If they wanted to do so within the next five years, chances were high that he, as the captain of the Enterprise, would be the one to conduct the ceremony. The thought gave him a sudden pang of regret in the pit of his stomach that he did not want to think about too much. He shouldn’t feel lonely or envious of his crew members’ -  his family’s - happiness.

And who knew what could happen in five years?

When Carol Marcus came to him with a glass of champagne, Jim briefly wondered.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She gave him a smile that he returned in kind, just before he caught glimpse of Bones, looking in their direction with an odd expression on his face. And yeah, no. Jim was not going to get caught up in some kind of love triangle, he thought to himself, as he suppressed an exasperated sigh.

“Looking forward to getting back out there yet?”

She let out a small laugh. “You have no idea. Those past months here… I really can’t wait to get off the planet.”

They had that in common, at least. Though for her it was a whole set of different circumstances. Jim guessed that, after what both Starfleet and the press had made of her father’s actions, there was a lot of shame involved. Hell, he’d be ashamed beyond belief, if it were him, and he felt a sudden rush of sympathy toward her.

“Well, not that long anymore and you’ll be on your way to space on the best ship in the fleet. Though, I’ve heard their captain is a reckless jerk, so you’ll have to deal with that.”

Carol laughed and rolled her eyes. “Fishing for compliments, are you?”

Maybe he was. At least a little bit. But more than that, he had wanted to make her feel a little lighter.

“Jokes aside, you’ll love it. My crew and I will do everything to make you feel right at home.”

“Thank you, captain. I really appreciate it,” she said warmly, gratitude written over her face, just before her gaze wandered to where Bones stood. He raised his glass towards her and gave her a small grin. And yeah, really. No. Any intentions other than appreciating her as a highly skilled, personally pleasant addition to the crew would lead to nothing but awkwardness. And besides, even though Carol had many qualities he admired in a woman, he somehow didn’t _feel it_ anyway. And something told him she didn’t either. So all was good.

As spring morphed into a very hot, early summer and the mission finally got closer, he once again found himself with too much leisure time on his hands. And too many evenings spent in the good company of some scotch or casual hookups. Which he surely wouldn’t complain about. After all, being the captain of a starship limited his chances of getting laid regularly to nearly zilch. Thank the universe for shore leave and diplomatic missions with alien races.

Despite the prospect of having to become even more well-acquainted with his right hand over the next five years, Jim could barely stop himself from counting the days until the re-christening ceremony and, two days later, the departure. (It was twenty-two and twenty-four.)

The truth was, having little to no work gave him too much time to think, to become maudlin and self-pitying, and he didn’t like himself that way. He needed something to _do_ , something productive and important. A real purpose.

What other purpose was there for him than being the captain of the Enterprise? In a rather short span of time, it had become his whole life. He’d almost lost it. Well, technically he had lost his life, his literal life, too, but losing the captaincy of the Enterprise had been the hardest, most devastating loss he’d experienced up until that point. Until Christopher Pike had been killed. And things had spiralled down after that to the point of Khan threatening to kill his entire crew and then to Jim’s own, actual death.

The thing was, despite all the pain and the gut-wrenching, gripping fear he’d experienced in those final moments, doing it - going into the warp chamber - knowing full well he was sacrificing his own life to save the lives of his crew had been… easy. He hadn’t hesitated, hadn’t spent a second on thoughts of regret, and maybe that was because it hadn’t sunken in that it had, really and truly, been a suicide mission. Or maybe, a small dark voice in the back of his head wanted to tell him, he hadn’t really cared that much. Not as much as he cared when he had to see members of his crew being sucked through the hull into space and certain death, and definitely not as much as when it looked, for a few but seemingly way too long moments, like Spock would not make it out of that volcano alive.

Maybe he was depressed. Or maybe it was just normal that the thought of your own death wasn’t as horrible as that of losing people you truly, deeply cared about. After all, those who survived were the ones who had to keep on living with the loss.

There was no point in contemplating all of this, of _getting_ depressed over thinking too much about what was, before. But when he was alone in his apartment, he couldn’t help these trains of thought to occupy his mind. Damn, he really needed to get off his planet and back to being a captain. To the purpose he needed in his life.

Only a little over three weeks, he told himself. And then he’d be back on board, to boldly go and explore the universe with his crew by his side. He’d get to hear Bones’ whining and his colourful metaphors of threat and doom on a daily basis. He’d enjoy Sulu’s excellent piloting abilities and his overall badassery, and Chekov’s adorable Russian accent when he called him ‘Keptin’ and messed up his V’s and W’s. He’d get to worry about but never fear Scotty’s latest tweaks and additions to the engines, and possibly share his love for high-quality Scotch. He’d have Uhura on the bridge, with her knowledge and intelligence getting them out of many tight spots that they’d surely find themselves in.

And he’d have Spock. Every time he’d look over his right shoulder he’d be sitting there, or leaning over his console, giving him insight into probabilities and aspects he wouldn’t have considered. Simply being there as his right-hand man, his logical half to Jim’s own impulsive one. One without the other, always excellent alone but never fully complete. Never as extraordinary and unbeatable as they were together. And okay, maybe he was exaggerating a bit, but it certainly felt that way whenever he thought of his First Officer.

Despite their bumpy start, Spock completed Jim in a way nobody else ever had, and in a way he couldn’t imagine anyone else ever would. That’s why he had asked Spock about the five-year mission first. Because he wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ have done it without him.

Only three more weeks and all this pensiveness would be over. He’d be whole again.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Wednesday, another chapter. Again, many thanks for the comments and kudos to the previous chapters. Hope you enjoy this one as well.

The first few weeks of their mission were so insanely busy that Jim hardly had the time to sleep. He had daily meetings with teams and heads of various departments to address several issues: from smoothing out all the kinks in engineering to setting up better schedules for the crew and giving his approval to projects in recreation, supplying and research. Aside from that, there were also continuous conversations with the admiralty, reports to file and briefings to read, decisions to make and justify.

Nevertheless, despite having to jump headfirst from nearly zero work to what felt like at least two hundred percent of his usual workload, Jim felt a grin on his lips every morning when he stepped onto the bridge, seeing the faces of his crew and knowing he had the great honour to be working with Starfleet’s finest. How he even deserved that honour, he wasn’t completely sure. Probably had something to do with dying for them. Lately, whenever _that_ thought came up, it was no more than a fleeting memory, much easier to laugh it off instead of re-experiencing the horrors of it.

Yes, Jim felt like a man reborn when he was sitting in that chair on the bridge, when he heard the soft beeps and buzzes of the controls as Chekov adjusted the course or the deep drone of Sulu punching the acceleration after they had stopped for a brief scan somewhere.

And Spock’s voice, whenever he informed him of the results, immediately noticing anything his long-range scanners picked up. Right there, whenever Jim needed insight or advice. Next to him Uhura who monitored all potential communications frequencies, listening to static ninety-nine per cent of her time, and yet there was no noticeable decrease of her concentration. No wonder Spock admired her so much, Jim thought.

Bones also came to the bridge more often than was strictly necessary, sometimes with a cup of coffee for himself and Jim. Though he didn’t make a habit of it, probably to avoid anyone complaining they never got this kind of special treatment. Bones, naturally, was outwardly as grumpy as ever, frequently complaining that he had been stupid to ever sign up for a mission of _five goddamn years in space, Jim!_ Jim had to fight the urge once or twice to ruffle Bones’ hair in amused adoration, because, what would he do without his constantly-complaining, grumpy best friend?

No, there really wasn’t anything he’d want to be different on this ship. No other people, no other mission. This, everything, was just perfect.

A really nice addition to his usual leisure time activities was playing chess with Spock. They had only managed to do so once in the first three weeks of their voyage, as the workload had been just too high, but something told Jim, as he waited for Spock to come to his quarters for their next round, that this wasn’t going to be an isolated event.

Maybe, depending on how much either of them had to do, they could make this a regular thing, playing once or twice a week. Jim still was a bit rusty in his skills, not having played regularly for a few years, but he found, even though he had lost all three matches last time, that his abilities weren’t that inferior to Spock’s. He wondered if that annoyed the Vulcan somehow. That a mere human with lesser intelligence than himself came close enough to beating him and actually had, that one time back in San Francisco. If that were the case, Spock didn’t let it on.

“Just water or some tea again?” Jim asked after Spock had arrived, precisely on time of their appointment.

“Tea would be acceptable. Thank you, captain.”

Jim turned from the replicator back to Spock, a small grin on his lips. “Okay, Spock, here’s the thing. When we’re meeting in private I’m not your captain. So you’re to call me Jim. That’s an order.”

Spock raised an eyebrow at him, and there was the tiniest quirk around one corner of his mouth. “If you are not my captain in this instance, then it follows logically that I am not mandated to obey your orders.”

Jim let out a bubbling, bright laugh and shook his head, feeling something warm inside his chest. He slapped Spock’s upper arm. “God, I’ve missed this. You and your smart-assery and… admit it or not, that was a joke!”

Still that slightly raised eyebrow. “It was merely an observation of your lapse of logic. Jim.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Vulcans don’t joke,” Jim still chuckled as he took the two cups from the replicator. “Go on Spock, sit down. I believe you had black the last time? So it’s your turn to start.”

Spock nodded as both he and Jim sat down at the small table, the already set up chess board between them. It took only a few seconds for Spock to make his opening move as Jim took a careful sip of his tea - a Betazoid variety he had found in the menu of the replicator. It tasted earthy and slightly fruity, quite pleasant. And when had he become such a tea drinker in the first place?

They both drank and exchanged their first few moves in silence before Jim spoke up again. “So, first real assignment as of tomorrow. Think we’ll make any groundbreaking discoveries?”

They were to map and closely scan a star system that, so far, had only been detected by telescopes and long-range sensors.

“As we are to observe the dying star to monitor the mechanisms taking place in this precise cycle of its life, our findings could serve to indicate whether a star becomes a black hole or neutron star upon its full collapse,” Spock said, summarising what Jim had gathered from the briefings. “However, such findings could only be verified once the star has, in fact, collapsed, which currently is estimated to happen no sooner than in the next three-hundred-fifty-five years. If correct, however, the groundbreaking character of our results will reveal itself at that point in time.”

“Well, either way. I’m sure it’ll be fascinating,” Jim said, his gaze fixed on the board. He decided he wanted to lure Spock into an early trap that would, should everything go according to plan, cost him his knight or bishop in three more moves. He pursed his lips and shrugged slightly. “No ship has ever gotten that close to a dying star before. Well, safely that is.” Jim realised the direction this was going and wondered whether it caused any unpleasant memories for Spock. Then again, the events Jim was thinking about had much more directly affected himself, resulting in the death of his father years before Nero came through the singularity and destroyed Spock’s homeworld. And after all, black holes and dying stars weren’t an all too unusual topic when you were a Starfleet officer.

Nevertheless, Jim was relieved when Spock continued with no indication that the subject bothered him. “Indeed, it will be fascinating. The modifications to the hull of the ship and its system’s preventive routines will allow us to monitor the star for a much longer time than previously possible, and much more closely, as you have said. In fact, we will be able to approach the star four-hundred-fifty-nine per cent more closely and stay twelve point four-three times as long. The increase in data we can collect is, at present, incalculable.”

“Aah, Spock. I love it when you talk nerdy.” Jim said, feeling a giddiness in him that he couldn’t contain. There was a time when such a statement would have overstepped their boundaries, but now it only caused Spock to raise an eyebrow again in what Jim interpreted as ‘Vulcan amusement’.

“Then may I suggest,” Spock said as he made the predicted chess move, “that you revisit your academy course books as you will find much similarly scientific jargon there.”

Jim nearly snorted out the sip of tea he’d taken with the chuckle bursting from him. “God, you’re hilarious sometimes. If anyone ever says Vulcans don’t have a sense of humour…”

“He or she may be quite right,” Spock finished, and Jim decided not to contradict him any further. It was enough that Jim knew Spock _was_ hilarious.

“You do that quite often, though,” Jim started again, having contemplated the chess board for a while. When Spock raised a quizzical eyebrow at him, he elaborated. “Say something that humans would consider funny, I mean.”

“I have lived among humans long enough to be able to identify patterns that will, in all likelihood, elicit a reaction of amusement.”

“Hm.” Jim pondered that for a moment, the two potential chess moves he could make distracting him from forming the right words to a follow-up question. When he finally moved his bishop, he leaned back against his chair and looked over to Spock again. “So you’re just playing along to meet human conversational expectations? I kinda find it hard to believe it’s just that.”

Even though there was a smile on Jim’s features that he made a point of looking benign and not condescending, there was a brief flicker of something in Spock’s eyes that Jim couldn’t quite pinpoint. Not something negative, per se, but… like being caught.

“I do admit I find exchanges with a humoristic character to be… fascinating,” he said at last, and Jim’s smile turned triumphant.

“Also, my mother was human,” Spock continued, his voice softer now, eyes not meeting Jim’s as they focused back onto the chessboard. “And I find she had an exquisitely witty sense of humour that did possess its own intellectual merit.”

It was the first time Spock had ever mentioned his mother to Jim after the Nero incident.

Jim’s grin softened into a gentle smile, though something tugged at his heart a little painfully. “I bet she was an amazing woman,” Jim said. He wondered if having had her as a role model had opened Spock up to wanting to date a human. Were the two women - Spock’s mother and Uhura - in any way similar? It wouldn’t be unlikely, even though Jim, himself, could not imagine dating someone like his own mother. Then again, their relationship had always been… difficult.

“She was, indeed,” Spock replied, and Jim wasn’t quite sure, but he thought he had heard the faintest tremor in his first officer’s voice then. “She was the one who taught me how to play chess.”

“Oh, was she?” Jim asked, feeling it was safe now to continue with the subject after Spock had shared that bit of information by himself. “Makes sense, though. It’s not a Vulcan game.”

“It is not. However, chess is not uncommon on Vulcan either, as it is an intellectually challenging past-time.”

And that made sense, too. Somehow, he couldn’t see Vulcans finding any benefit from playing Monopoly or Ludo.

“Who taught you how to play it?” Spock asked, and that was another first. A question of pure interest in his person.

“Initially, my brother, “Jim replied, and there was a small sense of melancholy in him now. Unsure for a moment on whether he wanted to go in that direction, he contemplated the board for a moment. “When he went off planet with my mother I mostly taught myself,” he said at last. When he looked back up, he found a rather soft expression in Spock’s gaze - once more proof that, living among humans for so long, Spock had learned to read them, to sense negative emotions and react with sympathy. And it didn’t seem feigned either, or Spock would have given him a human-typical platitude of comfort instead of that genuinely empathetic gaze Jim couldn’t hold for too long. Maybe this was a story for another time.

“I guess I got most of my practice when...” He changed the direction and gave a soft, sheepish laugh. “I hustled people to make a bit of money on the side. Not my brightest days, I admit.”

Spock’s raised brows seemed to agree with him, though Jim didn’t quite feel judged.

“Anyway, as this is seen as a worthwhile game in Vulcan culture, I hope this is intellectually challenging enough for you,” he said, smirking, as he took Spock’s knight.

“To my surprise, it is.” There it was again, that subtly teasing, humorous tone of his, and Jim couldn’t help but grin at that.

“Glad to oblige.” The smile on Jim’s lips didn’t leave him for a while, especially when, after a few more moves, Spock lost his rook, too, allowing Jim to checkmate him only three moves later.

Jim lost the other two games after that. All was perfect.

 


	4. Chapter 4

“Dammit Jim, I don’t like this.”

Jim had to grin. He clapped his friend on the shoulder, grasping it tightly for a short moment. “Relax, Bones. This is what we came for, isn’t it? First contact!” Jim could hardly contain his excitement from bubbling in his chest as he and his chief medical officer made their way to the transporter room.

They were five months into their five-year mission, and, after a bunch of really boring uninhibited planets - with fascinating flora and fauna, as Spock had pointed out - they had finally encountered a civilization that had just discovered warp drive. Admittedly, it was more of a theoretical, experimental concept to the Qua’ll as they had hardly developed their technology far enough to actually put it into long-term practice. But then again, the circumstances that had led to the Vulcans first contact with Earth had been very, very similar.

“But this initiation rite business--”

“Rite of Acceptance,” Jim corrected him, remembering what the aliens had explained through their first few video conversations.

“Whatever.” Bones rolled his eyes. “It sounds archaic. You’re what? Supposed to fight some alien monsters to prove you’re worthy of negotiating with the Qua’ll?”

“They’re not monsters. More like… like our dogs or cats. How bad can it be?” Jim replied, clapping Bones’ shoulder once more in a soothing gesture. “Besides, we have to respect their culture and accommodate them. Give them a chance to understand us, too.”

Bones sighed and ran his scanner over Jim’s upper body once more, as if he could find something that would tell him Jim was going to be immune to injury. “Backwards alien barbarians,” Bones muttered under his breath. “At least let me give you an antibiotic.”

“Preventively? Come on, Bones. Stop mother-henning me,” Jim said, mildly exasperated but also amused and a little bit touched. It was funny how Bones always told him not to be so dramatic _after_ something had happened to him, but before, he really was as overprotective as a first-time mother. “If something happens, you guys can beam us up at any moment. Besides, I’ll have Spock with me, remember?”

“Good. At least he’ll have the sense to not engage in something that could potentially kill you for no good reason.”

“Shall I tell him you said that?” Jim teased and only received an annoyed glare. He had to snort out a laugh.

As they finally got to the transporter room, Spock was already there talking quietly with Uhura. Jim wondered if they were going to kiss goodbye. When he approached, however, Uhura took a step back and gave him a small smile that he acknowledged with a nod and a smile back, before he turned to Spock.

“Ready to fight the Siberian tigers, Mister Spock?” he asked well within earshot of Bones.

Spock only raised an eyebrow, crooking his head ever so slightly. “A gross and curious exaggeration, captain. The creatures we will have to overcome are hardly larger than Terran domestic cats, and quite similar in their physiological properties. Furthermore, we are not supposed to _fight_ the _kimharsha’_ but merely pass an obstacle course with approximately twenty of these creatures present. As the Qua’ll have informed you, captain, we are not to bring any harm to the kimharsha’, as they are considered beloved pets in Qua’ll culture.”

“See Bones?” Jim asked, feeling triumphant as he looked over to his friend. “Told you it’d be fine. We just have to cuddle some alien kitties and get their approval. Piece of cake.”

While Bones gave a visible sigh and rolled his eyes once more, Jim nodded towards Scotty. “Mister Scott. Energise.”

This was going to be so much fun.

~*~

This really was no fun at all. Jim was aching in all the wrong places, barely able to stand. Those alien creatures - small, cute and fluffy as they were - had been _vicious_ , having torn his uniform shirt and scratched his skin in countless places. But what was even worse was the feeling of his lungs constricting and his nose completely incapable of drawing any breath so that he had to inhale heavily through his mouth. Of all the things that could have happened, having an allergic reaction to alien cats was the most humiliating.

With the exit of the underground labyrinth in sight, they just had to make it that far for Scotty to be able to beam them out again. Just about five or six feet from it, Jim suddenly faltered in his steps, heaving and gasping for breath. But he didn’t collapse to the ground. Strong arms caught his fall and steady hands held him up for those final steps. A finger coincidentally brushed his right nipple which was exposed through the deep tear in his shirt, and - without conscious intention -  his first thought was: _Oh, this is nice_. And just as unconsciously, he felt a small grin on his lips as he looked up at Spock, and, in his delirious, allergic state, was barely able to notice the words that were exchanged over the communicator and the familiar feeling of being transported back to the Enterprise.

On the transporter platform, Spock let go of Jim the second Bones approached them. Jim nearly toppled into the doctor’s arms, feeling like a sack of potatoes and a tiny bit angry at Spock for dropping him like that. But he had no chance to contemplate that before something pointy pricked him in the neck. He gave a squeaking sound and passed out.

 

~*~

The aftermath of the _Rite of Acceptance_ was somewhat bearable. After waking up in medbay with swollen eyes and a slightly blocked nose, Jim was declared unfit for duty for only twenty-four hours, and he spent them recovering in his quarters, most of them asleep.

The diplomatic aftermath was better than expected. The Qua’ll had felt terrible for the outcome of the rite, never once having considered that anyone could have been allergic to their beloved pets. In Jim’s absence, they allowed Spock, accompanied by Chekov, who had volunteered enthusiastically, to complete the rite. Bones, Jim had learned, had also been present to make sure there were no other injuries. Interestingly, the cat-like creatures responded with gentle curiosity to the other two Starfleet officers, and there was nothing more than a very small scratch on Chekov’s hand, resulting from a playful but benign paw swipe.

Since both members of the party had successfully gained the animals’ acceptance, the Qua’ll had been happy to enter negotiations for a two-year period of allyship. The Federation would be allowed to establish posts on and near the planet to monitor the activities on the edge of the neutral zone, and the Qua’ll would, in return, gain access to more advanced technology and knowledge. Two days later, Jim was well enough to sign the deal on behalf of the Federation and attend the celebrations - under the heavy influence of Bones’ most potent antihistamines that nearly made him fall asleep at the banquet table.

So far, a great success.

The only setback happened when, about one week after their departure from the Qua’ll homeworld, Carol Marcus requested to see him.

“What can I do for you, Lieutenant Marcus,” Jim asked as they both had taken their seat at his desk in the ready room.

There was an ever so slightly sad smile on her lips as she looked at him, and Jim kind of feared he knew where this was going.

“Captain, I wanted to thank you again for the opportunity to join the crew of the Enterprise,” she started, and yep, he really saw what she was getting at. Crap. “The past five, almost six months serving here have been amazing and just what I needed after… what happened last year.” She looked down at her hands in her lap for a short moment, a faint, somewhat bashful chuckle leaving her to downplay the emotion written on her features.

“You’re an exceptional officer and a valuable addition to our crew,” Jim said, receiving a grateful look from her in return. “And it was the right thing to do. You deserved a post where you could put your potential to full use, and serve among Starfleet’s finest.”

She nodded, swallowing softly.

Jim took a long, slow breath. “But this is not that post, is it?”

Carol sighed, but smiled again, only her eyes conveying that this wasn’t easy for her.

“I’ve been offered an opportunity to work at a research facility on Delta IV. I’ve thought about this for a long time. Please don’t think I’m making this choice lightly because--”

“I don’t,” Jim interrupted her softly. “It’s your career and future, Carol. Of course, you’re not making important life-altering decisions lightly.”

She smiled briefly at him and nodded. “It’s a really good post. I could work in my original field again, and I’d have a whole team of scientists serving under me.”

“And a promotion to lieutenant commander coming with it, I presume?”

Again, she nodded, and a sad sigh left her, concealed by that wide, beautiful smile of hers.

Although he had made the decision not to think of her in any other way than a professional one, Jim briefly did wonder if under different circumstances… But no, there was no point in even wondering. And even if there could have been a chance, there was quite a bit of stigma and paperwork involved around dating one of his crew members. Besides, Bones had shown interest in her too, although so far, nothing had come from it, either. Or nothing he knew of, at least. And he would know if they had started a fling or something more serious.

Dating opportunities aside, Jim had meant what he told her. She really was a great addition to their team. Good-natured and highly intelligent, always polite and kind, with a great sense of humour but also an aura of someone that shouldn’t be messed with. Jim had the utmost respect and appreciation for her, and it would be sad to see her go.

“Of course, I can’t take the position if you don’t approve my transferal,” she started again, looking him in the eye.

Jim briefly shook his head and made a small waving motion with his right hand. “Please, I wouldn’t want to stand in your way. If this job really is what you want and what you think will make you happy, then, of course, you have my approval.”

The smile on her lips turned a little brighter then, although her eyes did glisten with the faintest hint of moisture. “Thank you, Jim.”

“When are you due to leave?” he asked.

“That depends on you, I suppose. They could arrange transport for me the next time we stop at a space station.”

“Yeah, that seems suitable. We’re to stop at K-9 in ten days,” Jim replied.

Carol gave him a half sad, half grateful smile. “I’ll make the necessary arrangements.”

“And I’ll get the paperwork ready. And a letter of recommendation, of course,” he ended with a slightly wider, encouraging smile as he got up from his chair, watching her follow suit.

“Thank you, captain.”

“You’re welcome. Make sure to send us a postcard every once in a while.”

That made her laugh softly and her eyes crinkle as she looked at him. “Shouldn’t you be the one sending me postcards? After all, you’ll be getting to see all those exotic planets and unchartered sectors.”

“I’ll check the souvenir shops next time we’re planet-bound,” he said, briefly putting a hand on her upper back as he led her towards the exit.

He’d miss her, so much was clear. She’d become a part of his family quickly, and saying goodbye to someone you considered family was always a sad business. But this was her choice, and he’d have to respect that.

~*~

 

So Carol was gone. Three days ago with lots of heartfelt and some teary goodbyes from the crew, she went on her way to Delta IV. Jim wasn’t _exactly_ sure he didn’t read things into it, but he had the impression Bones had been particularly grumpy these past few days.

Well, maybe it all was for the best. Even if they had started something she probably wouldn’t have stayed for Bones’ sake, and Jim had no idea how well his friend would have handled the heartbreak. Maybe Bones would have left with her, Jim thought then, with a sudden, harsh pang of panic in his chest. Bones had been his best friend from the day Jim had joined Starfleet, and of all his crew and all the people he’d sorely miss, Bones was one of the two he couldn’t imagine anywhere but by his side.

The other was currently sitting opposite him, contemplating the chess board before making a well-calculated move with one of his knights.

They had fallen silent after their initial greetings and agreeing on a new type of tea. This time, it was a Tellarite blend with a unique, slightly bitter but still pleasant taste.

Jim still needed an opener for a proper conversation.

“So, Spock. Do you read?”

He received a typically quirked eyebrow that said as much as ‘Captain, naturally I possess the ability to read’ without actually having to enunciate any of it. Or so Jim thought, laughing softly. “I mean for purely recreational purposes. Not scientific literature, but fiction.”

“I have read many works of fiction. However, the purpose was to broaden my general knowledge and my understanding of alien cultures rather than a purely recreational one,” Spock explained, while Jim contemplated two different moves he could make that would still give him a chance at winning this match.

“So you don’t read just for fun,” Jim said, deciding on the rather bold move to sacrifice his rook. It was more a statement than a question.

“Doing something ‘just for fun’ is a motive Vulcans do not experience,” Spock elaborated. “However, you may find that my seeking insight or fascination from the works of literature I have picked outside of the curricula during my education relates, partially, to the human need for meaningful entertainment.”

“Hm, so that’s basically the Vulcan definition of fun, then? To gain something from it, even if it’s just fascination and not some knowledge you can later use?”

Spock took Jim’s rook and looked up from the board. “You might interpret it that way.”

Jim suppressed a small grin. His strategy seemed to be working. He just had to find a way to lure Spock’s remaining bishop out. “So, read anything fascinating lately then?”

“Define lately,” Spock replied.

Jim pursed his lips in contemplation. “Hm, past two months?”

“Negative. I have spent my time studying papers on xenobotany and phytomedicine.”

“Well, that sounds fascinating too,” Jim replied more truthfully than actually teasing.

“Indeed.”

Jim looked back at the board, working out the possible combinations of moves and their effects and still not having found anything satisfactory. He was probably going to lose this one again.

“I was just thinking. Maybe, if you’re up for it and have the time, we could read the same book and talk about it during our chess matches? Like a book club.”

“I am not opposed to that suggestion. After concluding my report to Starfleet this morning, I will have twenty-three point seven-four per cent more daily leisure time in the foreseeable future. May I inquire what book you had in mind?”

“Well,” Jim started. “I’ve already started something. But knowing you, you’d catch up in no time. Then again, you’ve probably already read Sherlock Holmes?”

“If you are referring to the works by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, then yes, I have read them.”

Jim let out a soft sigh. “Yeah, figures.” He felt a smile pull up his lips, squinting at Spock slightly as he recalled a particular memory. “You were quoting him, weren’t you? Back when… After we first met. ‘When you’ve eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth’?”

Spock raised an eyebrow at Jim, and this time, Jim was convinced it was an expression of being impressed at Jim remembering it. “You are correct. Although my variant of the original quote omitted a part of it.”  

Jim nodded, feelings smart for remembering the full quote but not needing to pronounce it. “So, since you’ve read all the works, what did you think of them? Did you… for the lack of a better word… like them?”

“Although many of the cases Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson faced were highly sensationalist and exorbitant, I find Holmes’ logical approaches and the process of his deductions quite fascinating. Furthermore, these works had a significant impact on the development of modern Terran criminological methods which places these books, despite their belletristic nature, among the most valuable and sophisticated literary creations of Earth’s nineteenth and twentieth century.”

Jim had to smile, barely able to stop himself from making it into a too wide grin. “You know, you actually remind me of him. The way you both talk, you could be brothers.”

“Interesting,” Spock said. “Considering his creator is one of my ancestors.”

Jim had heard the words but had to do a mental double-take at them. “Wait, what now?”

“Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. My mother was one of his direct descendants,” Spock informed him matter-of-factly, and this time, Jim couldn’t contain his disbelieving, delighted laugh.

“Wow. So… you’re saying I’m currently reading the works of the guy who was your… great-great-great-great-something-grandfather? About a guy that talks almost exactly like you? What is this, some sort of predestination paradox?”

Spock raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re suggesting that I am going to travel back to the eighteen-eighties and inspire Sir Arthur Conan Doyle to invent Sherlock Holmes?”

Jim shrugged at that, still grinning.

“A fascinating scenario that hadn’t occurred to me yet. And not entirely impossible. However, considering there are similar such figures that either predate Holmes or have been independently created in other Terran and non-Terran cultures, the amount of time travel I would have to conduct for such purposes exceeds what we can assume as realistic.”

“Well then,” Jim started, not quite yet wanting to let go of having fun with this new fact. “Maybe Arthur Conan Doyle just was like you and based Holmes on himself. And he passed those traits on to you.”

“And every other Vulcan,” Spock concluded with a subtly raised eyebrow.

“Touché,” Jim conceded. “Still a funny coincidence. And I’m just having fun reading those books. I really like that guy.” The second the words had left him, Jim realised what they implied. He didn’t regret it in the slightest.

The look Spock gave him then, brow once again slightly raised, was much softer, and the tiny, barely visible smile on the Vulcan’s lips didn’t go unnoticed by Jim either.

“Your move, Jim,” Spock reminded him, and Jim let his gaze fall back onto the board, a soft sigh leaving him.

He was so going to lose this one too but found he didn’t really mind. Things were good.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm stupid. I replied to someone's comment about their chess match, and mentioned a Sherlock Holmes reference in it... not having remembered that it only comes in THIS chapter. ^^ So, if my comment made no sense to you at the time, that's the explanation.   
> And again, thank you for the comments and kudos. I do hope you're still enjoying the fic. I mentioned I might speed up the intervals, but unfortunately, my beta-reader had a lot of real-life issues preventing her from doing a lot of work on this fic. So I'll keep it to weekly updates for a while.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There'll be smut in this chapter, though probably not what you'd prefer ;-)

Life on board the Enterprise had long settled into a comfortable routine. Their tasks and explorations were still exciting and challenging, but the well-tuned teamwork allowed the feeling of safety and confidence to grow among the crew. Weeks turned into months, and soon a full year of deep space exploration was over. It hardly even felt that way.

The truth was, Jim was damned proud of his crew and their accomplishments. And they weren’t just unparalleled in the field of making new scientific discoveries on dying stars or on previously unknown types of meteors or even cataloguing alien flora and fauna that, with further studies, could prove beneficial for medical progress. No, they had gotten out of a few tricky situations here and there, too. Like that one time with those weird shark-like aliens they hadn’t even known were on the planet until they had ambushed the landing party on the beach. But it wasn’t a violation of the Prime Directive, as they had had no indication for indigenous life forms of humanoid intelligence. Plus, human intelligence was probably stretching it a little bit. They had been too easily scared back into the ocean with a little bit of smoke and fire. Bones had nearly lost a leg when one of the shark-people snapped at him, but that, too, had been prevented, so all was good.

Overall, Jim was really happy with what they had accomplished so far, and he’d gotten to know his crew members a lot better over time, just as the crew had gotten to know one another better too.

With the comfort of deeper acquaintance, something that he could only describe as a dating epidemic had started on board, pairings of two (and, in one instance, he had witnessed three) quickly dropping their flirty smiles and glances whenever a senior officer came into their vicinity. Thankfully, Starfleet didn’t enforce fraternisation rules, and Jim surely wasn’t going to start doing it. If people found their joy or even just some fleeting pleasure with each other, who was he to stop them?

Sadly, with him being the captain, there was definitely no room for sleeping around. Something serious he could have justified to the admiralty, but engaging in promiscuous behaviour with his subordinates, now that was completely off the menu.

As a few more months passed, however, that fact made him become itchy and restless. And even the many evenings spent over drinks with Bones or, even more frequently, playing chess and discussing books with Spock could no longer distract him from that feeling of constantly being on edge.

Seeing ensigns and young lieutenants in love or lust were one thing and not that hard to overlook. But whenever he saw Spock and Uhura standing particularly close, or her sneaking a small touch to his index and middle fingers in what Jim assumed was some sort of Vulcan equivalent to a kiss or peck, something tore at his insides. It was an odd feeling he couldn’t quite pinpoint, something akin to envy, he supposed, that was much stronger at seeing _them_ than any of the other crew members. After all, he knew them much more closely and therefore could relate to them more, put himself in their shoes, and get a sense of what they felt for each other, what they had together.

Jim didn’t like feeling that way, but he had no means to make it stop it, other than to look the other way whenever such situations occurred.

In hindsight, it was really good that Bones was still single and Carol had left. And he was such an ass for thinking that.

It was a few months into their second year when, after returning from a previously unmapped sector, they docked at a space station again for reprovisioning.

Deep Space I had only begun operating two years ago and was the last Federation outpost on this part of the beta quadrant. As such, it was frequented not only by Federation citizens but by a great variety of aliens who sought trade or other contacts. Unlike larger starbases in the Alpha Quadrant, it probably wasn’t the most picturesque place to stay at, but Jim gave his crew some shore leave anyway, feeling they all could use a change of scenery.

And boy, was he going to make use of it.

Once the skeleton crew had been instructed - to be relieved by another set of officers in twenty-four hours - it was finally time for Jim to disembark as well. Of course, Spock and Uhura had already left together, and so Jim found himself with Bones by his side as they stepped into the station’s main recreational area. It was a large sphere, circled by three storeys of promenades, the bottom resembling a park-like structure with plants and benches and even a small pond in its centre. The shops, restaurants and bars were located on both the bottom and first circle, and above that were the quarters and offices.

“So what do you want to do,” Bones asked, looking around. “Grab a bite to eat or hit a bar?”

“I’m not that hungry,” Jim replied, indicating they’d walk up the stairs to the first circle. “You?”

“Had an early dinner. So, bar it is?”

“Sounds good to me.”

Once on the circle, they walked around for a bit, past restaurants and shops, until they came by a bar. The front doors were opened, and both men could hear a classical Earth tune - some late twentieth-century rock - playing inside. The bar itself looked rather dark and rustic, not the type for a romantic getaway, so Jim thought it was safe to assume they wouldn’t run into any lovestruck couples of their crew in there.

“You wanna go in?” he asked as they had stopped at the entrance.

Bones raised his brows and rolled his eyes. “Of course you’d pick the dingiest bar on the station.”

Jim grinned at that, humouring him and not saying that it didn’t look all that different from the bars they used to frequent back in San Francisco. “The dingiest bars always have the best liquor.”

“You may have a point there, kid,” Bones replied and followed Jim inside.

The place reminded him a bit of the one where he had first met Uhura and later Captain Pike, and there was a small pang of grief he had to push back into the farthest corner of his consciousness. Pike had been dead for over two years now, and it wouldn’t do to mope about things he could not change.

As they sat down at the bar and ordered their first round of drinks - some Aldebaran whiskey that burned slightly at the back of his throat, but had a rich taste of honey and spices - the music changed to a slightly more upbeat, unusually sounding number in a language Jim hadn’t even heard before. He and Bones were rather enjoying themselves.

“You know, even though I’d hate to spend the rest of the evening alone, I’d be a bad friend if I didn’t tell you you’ve been ogled like baby rabbit at a pet store for the past five minutes,” Bones said over their third glass of whiskey and the large pint of Andorian ale they had ordered sometime in between. Somehow, his tendency for horrid metaphors grew with his alcohol consumption.

When Jim gave him a quizzical look, Bones inconspicuously pointed in the direction of the other end of the bar, and Jim slowly turned around. At first, he saw a pretty Efrosian woman but she didn’t look his way at all. And sure enough, just about two seconds later, she smiled at her male companion who joined her at the bar.

“A little more to the right,” he heard Bones say softly, and then, as he let his gaze wander, he finally knew who his friend was referring to.

The man was a Trill - short dark hair, typical spots framing a friendly, quite attractive face. And there was something mildly bashful as he smiled at Jim, although he didn’t lower his eyes. Yes, he was definitely being checked out by that one.

Jim smiled back but then turned towards Bones again. “Uh, I…”

“Don’t mind me. Just go and have some fun, kid. You sure look like you could use it,” Bones said, getting up from the bar stool and slapping Jim on the back.

“You’re the best wingman ever,” Jim said, grinning at him and receiving one of Bones’ signature annoyed looks in return.

“Yeah. You can return the favour tomorrow.”

“I’ll do my best,” Jim promised, still smiling as he lightly lifted his hand to give Bones a small wave goodbye.

When Jim looked back in the direction of the guy, he saw him walking towards him, his own drink in hand, and Jim gave him an encouraging smirk. He really was good-looking, maybe an inch or two shorter than Jim but built in a similar way: athletic but not beefy. If Trill aged the same way as humans, he must be in his late twenties, too, and, when he sat down on the stool previously occupied by Bones, Jim could see that his eyes were a really nice shade of green.

“Hi,” Jim said, his trademark self-assured grin firmly in place and a devilish gleam in his eyes. “So my friend tells me you’ve been checking me out?”

The guy let out a soft, slightly bashful laugh, lowering his gaze to his own drink as he swirled it in the spherical glass. “I have,” he admitted then.

“Well then, since you seem to be liking what you’re seeing I can tell you the feeling is mutual.”

“That’s good to hear,” the guy said, turning in his seat to face Jim more directly. “Otherwise I’d really have to work on my observation skills.” Good-looking and cute. Jim could work with that.

“No, your skills are fine…” He made a deliberate pause, fishing for the guy’s name.

“Lorjen.”

“Hi Lorjen, nice to meet you. My name is Jim,” he said, letting his eyes travel over the guy’s face deliberately. “So, you wanna get out of here?”

Lorjen gave a surprised chuckle and shook his head softly. “You’re really not wasting any time, are you?”

Jim shrugged softly. “My time’s too precious. Only got two days here before we head out again. So where’s the point in wasting any of it?”

“You’re with Starfleet?” Lorjen asked, and it sounded more like a guess than anything.

Jim smiled. “Yeah. And you?”

“I’m on a Trill science vessel. I’m finishing my habilitation thesis on--” he gave a bashful chuckle. “Yeah, that’s probably boring.”

“Ohh, you’re hot _and_ brainy. That’s what I like best,” Jim said in his slightly exuberant, flirty tone, but meaning it, and he was delighted to see the other man quite flustered.

Lorjen downed the remainder of his glass and set it on the bar. “Well, then… I can tell you more about it on the way.” Either emboldened by the alcohol or by Jim’s continuous gaze, he leaned in a little closer and put one hand on Jim’s knee. “My quarters are on the second ring.”

“Good. Then let’s go.”

Lorjen was exactly what Jim had imagined him to be like. Bold and passionate, but there was something shy to him, too, that made him laugh and bite his lips as he nearly stumbled while taking off his pants. Their other clothing already laid scattered somewhere between the entrance and the bed, having been dropped there carelessly within only a minute or two of their getting into the room.

He was a fairly good kisser, too, nibbling softly every now and then, alternating between small, gentle contacts and full-on hungry kisses.

“So, what do you like to do in bed,” Jim asked him, halting their more erratic touches for a while as they had fallen down on the bed, only in their underpants now. “Do you prefer to top or bottom?”

“Bottom, usually,” Lorjen replied. “I hope that’s okay with you?”

“Sure is,” Jim replied and covered his mouth with another kiss. Jim _was_ absolutely okay with that. However, a small part of him had somehow wished he could have been fucked into oblivion today. But Lorjen somehow wasn’t the exact type of guy Jim would have wanted for that purpose. No, this was fine, and he’d surely have his fair share of fun with the guy.

He wasn’t disappointed. Later, as Jim was fucking Lorjen into the somewhat hard mattress, he was writhing underneath him, heels digging into Jim’s thighs, hands clinging to his shoulders, moans and gasps leaving him with each of Jim’s thrusts as they got faster.

Lorjen let out a sound then, a trembling, low and slightly hoarse gasp, and it shook something loose in Jim, reminded him of something, of some _one_ … Eyes closed and repeating the angle of his thrusts he tried to reproduce it. When the sound came again he knew who that timbre reminded him of.

He came faster than he could have anticipated, and hard, too. Jim was just so able to bring his hand between their bodies and bring Lorjen off with it before he rolled over and lay on his back, breathing hard.

The last time he’d heard a sound like that, different in essence but with a very similar vocal colouring, it had been Spock under the strain of moving a heavy rock to free a Lieutenant who had caught his leg under it.

What the fuck.

Lorjen didn’t even sound like him when he talked.

“Wow,” he heard proof right next to him. And yes, that voice was different than Spock’s. Though there was this specific timbre whenever he lowered his voice that did sound a little bit similar. Automatically, without even _wanting_ his thoughts to stray into that direction, Jim wondered whether Spock sounded anything like that when he was having sex.

Finally, he remembered that there was a person next to him who probably wouldn’t enjoy being ignored while Jim could get worked up over nothing. He turned his head and gave Lorjen a smile. “Yeah. How about that.”

Lorjen gasped out a faint chuckle, one hand reaching for Jim’s thigh to rub it lightly. “So… you come here often?”

“Yeah, no, unfortunately not,” he replied. “We’re just passing through and will be on our way the day after tomorrow.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that. Shame.” Lorjen turned to lie on his side, propped on one elbow. “But hey, nevermind. I had a good time anyway.”

Jim felt a little more warmly towards the other man, deciding to discard that really odd train of thought he’d just had. He turned onto his side as well, putting a hand on Lorjen’s waist, thumb brushing over his skin. “Yeah, me too.”

For some reason, however, when the Enterprise took off again one and a half days later, Jim didn’t really feel like his itch had been fully scratched.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Wednesday, another chapter ^^ I hope you do enjoy it. I would be very interested to hear what you thought of it (and the past one). I just LOVE reading speculations, or how readers interpret a certain scene or interaction. You'd really make my day if you let me know your thoughts. <3

A few weeks after their brief shore leave, Jim decided that he needed more physical activity. And if sex wasn’t on the table, he had to find something else to get rid of all that excess energy that kept him on edge lately. It wasn’t like he didn’t get any physical activity at all - he frequently went to the gym to work out - but most of the time, it was the same standard routine. What he hadn’t gotten a lot of lately was some proper combat training with a sparring partner that was on par with him, or maybe even above his own skills, to provide an actual challenge. There were several members of his crew that fit those requirements, but somehow Jim didn’t really feel like sparring with any of them, and there was only one crew member left Jim actually wanted to do this with. For some ridiculous reason, it took him quite a while to bring himself to ask.

That odd moment with Lorjen was forgotten. Or rather, Jim pushed the memory aside every time it surfaced. It was nothing to pay any mind to, anyway, just a small coincidence, or his brain tricking him into attributing the sound of his moan to something he was familiar with, which was normal. And so were the dreams he occasionally had after that night, although he could hardly remember them the longer he was awake. He just knew he had seen Lorjen’s face again, suddenly morphing with Spock’s, and well, if that wasn’t an odd yet completely ordinary way for his sub-consciousness to combine various new and old visual and aural stimuli... Dreams were funny that way, weren’t they?

And so, around five weeks into their continued voyage, and with little more to do than star mapping and taking samples from uninhabited planets, Jim found himself on the training mat in the middle of a sparring match with his first officer. They had agreed - or Jim had gotten Spock to agree - on a freestyle mix to find their rhythm first. They could always focus on the particulars later, to work on specific techniques that Jim found himself lacking.

“You’re not holding back, are you?” Jim asked Spock with a small grin, so far having found it easy to block or evade but a few of his attacks. It was a little too easy.

“As this is merely a sparring match, I doubt my not holding back would be appropriate for the purpose,” Spock replied as they circled one another. A blow with an outstretched hand came to Jim’s head. Jim ducked and rolled over his side, kicking Spock’s calf and making him lose balance for a second.

“You’re not supposed to seriously injure me, but a little bit more...” Jim went on, back on his feet. He attacked Spock with a combination of his left hand and, once blocked, his right elbow to Spock’s gut. “... effort won’t do any harm.”

Spock briefly raised an eyebrow at him, obviously hardly having felt the blow to his middle. “Then the same goes for you, captain.”

Jim laughed softly. “As you wish, Mister Spock.”

They continued to spar, picking up both in speed and intensity now, and Jim finally felt like he was breaking a sweat. Spock, on the other hand, remained completely dry, but then again, that was probably normal for Vulcans.

The thought of whether Spock sweated during sex very briefly crossed his mind, but Jim pushed it aside, instead focusing on maintaining a strong footing while he and Spock circled each other.

As the fight progressed, Jim found they really matched quite well. If not in strength then at least in agility and technique, and Jim, with some more creative and daring moves than Spock, made up for the former, too. He was really enjoying himself, feeling the strain in his muscles and the way blood was pumping through him much faster now.

Then, Spock was grabbing him from behind, and Jim rolled himself in, trying to throw Spock over his shoulder. But the Vulcan's grip was strong, and he stood firmly on the mat while Jim pushed against his lower arm, trying to put his whole weight in the movement in vain. Suddenly, he was aware of his ass being pressed against Spock's crotch, and he could feel the outline of Spock's dick against his right ass cheek, clearly recognisable, flaccid though it was.

A feeling hit him all of the sudden, a spark of it shooting through him so quickly and with no conscious thought to it, that Jim hardly had the opportunity to identify it. Only when Spock let go off him and pushed Jim from him rather forcefully, Jim realised what it was, and his first thought was _oh shit._ His second one focused on willing away such effects because, even though his gym pants were rather wide, Spock would see them tent. And the third thought, all three of them having occurred to him only within a few seconds, was an even bigger _oh shit_!

Spock, however, attacked him again before Jim could contemplate his reaction, kicking against the back of his knee and sending a forceful strike to his shoulder that made Jim topple over, barely so able to catch his balance. As he turned to counter the attack, a flat hand shoved against his striking arm. Something in his shoulder made a slight cracking noise, and, before he could wonder whether he's just pulled a muscle or worse, Spock had pulled one of Jim's legs with his own and sent him falling backwards on the floor.

He remained lying there, breathing heavily.

“I believe the result of this sparring match is in my favour,” he heard Spock say, not quite sure whether he was feeling humiliated or turned on. And _oh fucking shit._

“Yeah… uh, I guess it is,” he replied, pushing himself up into a sitting position, one knee drawn up to hide any potential visible effects. His shoulder felt okay, so far. But that wasn’t all that was on his mind. In fact, what was were a multitude of questions, all paired with a pang of shock at what he had just thought. Had just felt.

Was still feeling.

Normally, Jim would have expected Spock to help him up, but somehow, the Vulcan was standing a few steps away, looking at nowhere in particular. And Jim was half disappointed, half grateful for that fact. It was just lucky he hadn’t actually gone fully hard, or Spock would have really been able to see it.

“If you want to hit the showers or go back to your quarters just go ahead,” he said then, stretching his arm a little to distract from any awkwardness. “I’ll just… do some cooldown.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Spock nod and heard a rather mumbled than clearly spoken “captain,” before the Vulcan left the gym.

What the fucking hell had just happened? And why was Jim’s brain making such a huge issue out of it? If it had been just some involuntary reaction of his body, endorphins and hormones getting the better of him, then why did he feel that odd, heavy pull in his stomach? A yearning, twisting ache right in the middle of it, and a tingling, buzzing feeling of arousal in all the lower parts.

Quite suddenly, Jim found it harder to breathe, and he had to lie down flat on his back, knees drawn up and feet on the floor, trying to calm his breath and heartbeat, and will away the semi-erection he still had. Because this was just wrong. He couldn’t be attracted to his first officer. To his _friend_.

If ‘attracted’ even covered it. What Jim was experiencing right now, was such an overwhelming sense of lust that he could hardly remember when he’d last felt like that. His brain, his stupid, stupid brain, still held on to the feeling of Spock’s body pressed against his from behind, and Jim felt his dick twitch with a need that wouldn’t be fulfilled.

He had to do something about it, glad the gym was empty and that the showers were too when he undressed completely and entered one of the cubicles. And if that wasn’t the weirdest thing he’d ever done - jerking himself off to thoughts he should _not_ be thinking about Spock - Jim didn’t even know.

_Shit._

~*~

Shift had ended a little over two hours ago. Nyota had a very mild headache, but that didn’t mean she had to succumb to the urge to simply lie down and call it a night. In fact, she hardly felt it as she went to the replicator and already pre-selected two meals. She’d be damned if she let something as mundane as a headache get in the way of tonight’s plans.

Spock had been really busy lately, hours spent in the labs after all the samples they had collected on various worlds, cataloguing and analysing them. As a result, she had seen very little of him in private over the course of the past few weeks. Usually, they spent their nights in her quarters together, but Spock still had his own cabin, using it mainly when he needed to meditate or, as recently, when he got home late and didn’t want to wake her. Today, however, he had promised to get back sooner and had confirmed his intentions with the exact time a short while ago.

She felt a smile on her lips, joyful anticipation making her skin prickle ever so slightly. There was a thing or two Spock could do about a headache.

Adjusting the room temperatures to suit Spock’s needs, Nyota went to change into something that would make her more comfortable in the raised temperatures - a simple black tank top and a thin, wide skirt with colourful Kenyan patterns. And finally, she heard the chime of the door announcing his arrival. She bade him in, and immediately the smile on her lips grew wider, heart fluttering pleasantly in her chest.

“Spock, hello,” she said, taking a few steps closer and seeing him take her in. It wasn’t a particularly elaborate outfit she was wearing, but she knew Spock appreciated the tight, low cut of her top as well as the traditional Kenyan patterns and colours. He had once in great detail explained how the warm and vivid shades harmonised with the hue of her skin and made the look on her particularly aesthetically pleasing.

“Hello, Nyota,” he replied softly.

“Are you hungry? I’ve already picked something you might like. A vegetable and quinoa stir fry.”

“That sounds acceptable,” he said and followed her to the replicator.

Nyota smiled at him and, while entering the selection into the control panel, let her free hand drift to his upper arm in a small caress. She met his gaze, still smiling, and found the tiniest upwards movement mirrored on Spock’s lips.

“So, big project, huh?” she asked, as they both carried their plates to the small dining table. Water and two glasses of mango juice were already on it.

“Big is relative,” Spock replied. “However, given the amount of soil and plant samples we were able to obtain on Cirrus IV and Cirion III, I am satisfied that we could reach an eleven percent swifter conclusion of the task than previously expected.”

“Oh, what caused the lapse of judgement?” she asked, gently teasing, before she took the first bite of her food, satisfied with its pleasant taste.

“My not accounting for ensigns Yang and Müller’s diligent performance to be significantly above average,” he replied before tasting his food as well.

“Hm, remind me to thank them later. Or else I wouldn’t have gotten to see you for another…” She made a quick rough calculation in her head. “Two days?”

“One point seven-three-oh-three-three-seven, to be precise.”

Nyota chuckled and Spock gave her one of his tell-tale ‘almost’ smiles.

“Well, either way, I’m glad,” she said warmly, one hand reaching out to find his fingers and brush them briefly, making sure to project just how glad she really was.

They continued their meal with pleasant conversation, mainly her asking questions about all the interesting minerals and plant seeds he had analysed with his science team. Soon, however, when the plates were emptied and cleared away, there was something quite different Nyota had in mind for the rest of the evening.

They stood between the replicator and the sleeping area, and Nyota took a deliberately slow step towards Spock, gaze locked with his as she reached out again and let her fingertips brush against his. She knew he must feel it through the link, but even if not he would have been able to see her slightly dilated pupils, the skin of her face, neck and cleavage slightly flushed, the start of goosebumps on it despite the warmth in her quarters. God, he was so gorgeous when he looked back down at her, those dark brown eyes, the curve of his nose and lips. She couldn’t stop herself from kissing them any longer, meeting them in a soft touch that he reciprocated gently.

Nyota had long learned that Spock’s hunger for sexual pleasure most often did not surface as strongly as it did for her, and while she sometimes wished to see a raw hunger, to be claimed and taken, to feel like he wanted to devour her, his tenderness and gentle care was something she definitely appreciated. What Spock most often lacked in vigour, he made up for tenfold in technique and attention to detail, knowing a lot more precisely than any of her previous lovers how, when and where to touch her, to anticipate her needs and drive her crazy with want through foreplay alone.

He did seem to know that she was not up for it for very long tonight, though, needing to feel him inside her and wrap her arms and legs around his body. And so, it was just in the right moment, just when she thought she couldn’t take the suspense any longer, that their bodies united. They moved together in a perfect rhythm, first slow, then faster as she breathed against his shoulder, kissed and slightly nibbed his skin and dug her fingertips into his back.

“Meld with me,” she breathed, her eyes fixed on him. She was close, so close, and feeling what he was feeling, seeing herself through the meld and sharing his own pleasure would send her over the edge so hard.

Spock lifted his right hand, and Nyota closed her eyes, sucking in a trembling breath in anticipation. The touch she felt then, however, was just a brief caress over the side of her face, and with it just a rudimentary, fleeting glimpse of pleasure before Spock sped up his thrusts, and, with his other hand reached between their bodies. His thumb rubbed over her clit, and pulled her under within a few moments, a strangled cry of pleasure leaving her lips as her body rocked through the waves of her orgasm.

She lay breathing heavily as Spock pulled out of her carefully and rolled over to her side, and it took her a good while to fully catch her breath and feel her heart rate return to normal. But there was an odd feeling somewhere between her stomach and chest, something slightly heavy and hollow that made her turn to look at him with furrowed brow.

“Spock, that… that was amazing,” she started softly, taking a slightly deeper breath before she continued. “But why didn’t you meld with me?” It was not something they did very often, but they had a couple of times, and so far, Spock had never rejected her proposal to do so.

Spock didn’t answer for a while, and she knew that look on his features, although, to an outsider, it would have appeared expressionless. He reached over and caressed her upper arm, and although that touch didn’t cause a link as strong as touching her fingers would have done, she could feel a small sense of ‘sorry’ radiating from him.

“I believed it might have been too overwhelming.”

A small huff of breath left her lips, a smile forming on them in something like relief, and she turned to nestle her head against Spock’s shoulder, him wrapping one arm around her.

“Well, thanks for looking out for me,” she said, one hand running over his chest in small caresses, playing with the coarse hair covering it. “But you might have been right. This was overwhelming enough as it was.”  

As she turned her head upwards, she found Spock’s gaze again and could see nothing but gentleness. And that definitely was something that left her with nothing else to wish for.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry for the late update. I had a rather stressful week and simply forgot to do it on Wednesday.   
> But moving the updates to the weekend is probably a good idea anyway since my beta-reader isn't done with chapter 8 yet. She's having a very busy time, too. I do hope we can finish chapter 8 until next weekend, but if not, please be patient. Like I said before, the fic is complete, and I will definitely finish posting it. Sometimes, however, real life gets in the way, and things take a bit longer. 
> 
> I do hope you enjoy the next chapter! :-)

The thing with epiphanies is that you never really know what’s about to hit you before it does. If you did, it wouldn’t be an epiphany; it would be a slow process of small realisation after realisation forming a chain until the picture is complete. At any given moment, you would know what you know and where it could potentially lead, all possible paths and directions laid out before you, opposing or crossing, parts of them still in the dark but clearly there.

But epiphanies are the exact opposite of that. The realisation only happens in hindsight, and that’s the ironic, sometimes amazing, and sometimes _tragic_ part of it. In hindsight, the path appears so clear that you ask yourself how you could not have seen it. In hindsight, all the signs have been there all along.

In hindsight, you could have hit the brake at any point, chosen a different path. Rewinded and done something different before it became too late, because you’re deep in a labyrinth now, and the path back is blocked irrevocably, and the only way onward is the path you’ve been on all along without even knowing it. The result predestined by something you fucked up somewhere, along the way.

Yes, epiphanies could be good sometimes, could be useful and enlightening. But very often, they weren’t. They were the exact opposite of that and hit you in the face like a shovel. And Jim had just figured out a really big one.  

 

For a few days after the gym incident, things had been - for the lack of a better word - awkward for Jim. Every time he saw Spock, he became aware of not only the thoughts the Vulcan had triggered in him but also the fact that he was very close to having these thoughts again. Without wanting it, he found his gaze lingering on the line of Spock’s lean shape, or the way his black hair was shining in the bright light on the bridge, or the line of his right ear, for a split-second wondering what it would feel like underneath his fingertips. Or he noticed that he was looking at Spock’s lips a little longer than was strictly appropriate, imagining what it would feel like to run a thumb along the bottom one, feel them against his own or - better and worse simultaneously - on various parts of his body.

Jim had thought that finally getting laid again during their last shore leave should have taken the edge off, but the exact opposite happened. And he tried to argue with himself that, maybe, the one night stand had reawakened something in him that had been forced to remain dormant for so long. Like riding a bicycle again for the first time in ages, and then wanting to ride one every day, because riding bicycles was fun.

But there was simply no chance - and no morally acceptable circumstances - for him to ride _that_ particular bicycle (and Jim blamed Bones for making him think in stupid metaphors), so Jim just had to find a different… bicycle. Person. Sometime soon, whenever the chance came up. Because it was just that, he concluded with a firm conviction. Being on this ship with all the blossoming romance, and Chekov being thrown out of someone’s room shirtless (again!), and basically, everyone getting laid but Jim. (He knew that was an exaggeration but didn’t want to admit it to himself).

So, he was being stupid, he concluded, and there was no reason to allow things to become awkward between him and Spock, no reason to not pursue their friendship and play chess together, and no reason to act like Jim would not be able to control his purely physical urges when in Spock’s company.

So, he was glad for the opportunity for him and Spock to return to their usual friendly rapport, when he ran into Spock one day on the way to the turbo lift. There was just that odd fluttering feeling in his stomach and small shivers down his back, but he could deal with that.

“Hey Spock, wait up,” he called, seeing his first officer halt in his steps immediately, hands folded behind his back and head inclined slightly to see him come closer.

“Captain,” he greeted politely as Jim caught up.

“So, busy days, huh?” he started, grateful for a nice and noncommittal opener. “Did you finish that mineralogic survey?”

“Approximately ninety-five per cent of it, captain,” Spock replied. “You will receive a copy of the report upon completion.”

“Good work, Spock,” Jim said, wondering whether he should clap him on the back for it. It was something he would have done, _had done_ multiple times, before. Somehow, he didn’t dare to, now. “So I was wondering if you were free for chess tonight. We haven’t played in a while.”

“Negative, captain. Lieutenant Uhura requested to spend the evening with me.”

“Oh… okay.” The fluttering shifted somewhat, leaving an odd and sudden ache in Jim’s stomach. “Tomorrow then?”

Spock turned to look at Jim, and he had the feeling their steps had become a tiny bit slower, the look that Spock gave him lingering a little bit more than he was used to. But that was probably just his imagination.

“Tomorrow would be suitable,” Spock said at last. “I have not yet had the opportunity to read the book you suggested the last time, however.”

“That’s fine. Neither have I,” Jim replied as the turbo lift came into sight. “So Uhura and you… still going strong then, I assume?” Why the hell did he even ask that? It was none of his business.

Again, Spock gave him a look that seemed to study him a little bit longer and more deeply, and Jim was already wondering whether he had overstepped. “Yes, I believe we are,” he replied at last as they both stepped into the empty turbo lift. “It is our fourth anniversary today.”

“Wow, I had no idea,” Jim said, forcing himself to sound appreciative. And why did it suddenly feel like that odd ache spread through his entire upper body, and his heartbeat sped up in a way that wasn’t all that pleasant? Like he’d been punched in the gut and doused in cold water at the same time. “Four years, that’s… that’s a really long time. Congratulations, I guess.”

The look Spock gave him then was somehow softer, some faint emotion written in his brown eyes that Jim couldn’t quite discern but thought must be something like gratitude.

“Thank you, Jim.”

“Well have a great night, you two,” Jim said with a small smile, as warm and encouraging as he could muster. Then, as the doors of the lift opened, he stepped onto the bridge and went right to his chair, wondering why there suddenly seemed to be a knot in his throat.

It took him the better part of alpha shift to ignore this feeling, push it aside because the bridge definitely wasn’t the right place to have a… what was he even having? An emotional crisis? But--

“Captain, our long-range scanners are picking up a class M planet in a nearby star system. It would be prudent to examine it more closely.”

For a moment that seemed much too long, Jim felt like he was having some sort of allergic reaction. Almost as if thousands of little ants were crawling all over his skin, worming their way inside and making every fibre in his body sizzle with a sudden surge of electric energy. But he knew it couldn’t be that, finally knew what it was, instead, as he identified the feeling with a sudden rock-solid conviction that it pushed all breath out of his body.

“Captain?” Spock asked, that wonderful, vibrant voice of his showing the faintest trace of concern. Jim could not look at him, feeling like he’d been drowned in ice water.

“Yes,” he said, noticing his voice go raspy and break, and he cleared his throat. “Transfer the coordinates to Mister Chekov. Lieutenant, enter our new destination,” he finally managed, needing a significant amount of strength to get the words out with at least a semblance of professionalism.

If there wasn’t at least some action today, so help him God, he wasn’t going to make it through the rest of the shift.

 

Maybe it had taken him so long to have that epiphany because it had been ages since Jim had last been in love, properly in love, he thought later, in the privacy of his own quarters. If he had been more used to these feelings, he wouldn’t have dismissed them as something purely physical, and he certainly wouldn’t have attributed his affections for Spock to something purely platonic - a deep friendship and mutually beneficial professional partnership.

The signs had been there for a long time, Jim realised in hindsight, but he had simply lacked the ability to put two and two together.

He still didn’t want to put _those_ numbers together. Didn’t _want to be in love_ with Spock. Because where would that even lead?

After that day, Jim had the time to try and reason away his infatuation with logic (their chess match the following evening had fortunately been cancelled due to Spock having been sent on an away mission on the newly discovered planet. There were some perks of being the captain). He tried to make sense of it and find an explanation, or an out. But the harder he tried, the more vividly it surfaced in his dreams, when he found himself pinned down to the training mat by the full weight of Spock’s body; low, hoarse moans coming over Spock’s lips; raw, hungry kisses that had him wake up in the middle of the night, painfully hard.

If it had been just that, he could have lived with it, could have spent a little more time on cold showers or activities with his right hand, and he could have explained it away with the fact that Spock _was_ physically attractive.

But it wasn’t just that. There was a deep, aching feeling in the pit of his stomach, too. Every time he saw Spock, and Spock - all of him, his intelligence, his subtle Vulcan signs of appreciation, his barely-there smiles or raised eyebrow or his stupid Vulcan ears - filled Jim’s conscious thoughts more often and more deeply than was normal - or even healthy.

The fact was, he could have lived with all of _that_ , too, if only there was the slightest chance it would lead to something. But that was the biggest crux of the matter because Spock was with Uhura. He had _told_ Jim they were still going strong and had continuously done so for four fucking years. And Jim was _such_ a dick for wishing, hoping they’d break up, because what kind of captain, what kind of _friend_ wished heartache upon his friends just so he’d have a chance at being happy?

And anyway, even if they _did_ break up, that didn’t mean he and Spock would start a relationship. Jim didn’t even know if romantic relationships between two men were accepted in Vulcan society, or if they were completely taboo. After all, for a people so focused on logic, mating for any purpose other than procreation - particularly now as there were so few Vulcans left - wasn’t all that logical, was it?

The thought made him sit up in his bed, his intention to fall asleep any time soon completely destroyed. What if Spock and Uhura were to actually get married and have children?

And yep, he really was a colossal dick.

He needed to get a grip on himself, needed to get over these stupid feelings and focus on what he had, what he could have: a deep and meaningful friendship with Spock, times spent discussing books and playing chess and amusing each other. He’d enjoyed that so much these past two years that he wasn’t going to give it up. Because that thought was even more frightening than not having Spock the way he wanted him.

He’d just have to fake it before he could make it.

The trouble with that, of course, was the truth, the simple and undeniable truth, that remained even after all that consideration: Jim _was_ in love with Spock, and he was utterly and spectacularly screwed for it.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heads up: there might be a delay with the next chapter. My beta-reader is awfully busy with real life stuff at the moment, so I'm not sure she'll manage to beta the next chapter in time. 
> 
> So... finally some Bones in this chapter ;-) I do enjoy writing him, and I love his and Jim's friendship. I hope you enjoy this chapter, too. Thank you so much for all the nice comments so far. Please keep them coming ;-)

Jim tried to make it work, but he felt like he was failing. Four days after his groundbreaking epiphany, they had lunch together in the mess hall, and Jim hardly knew what to talk about. It was Spock, instead, who kept the conversation going, though it revolved around ship business. _That,_ at least, had been something Jim found a little easier to concentrate on.

He tried again a few days later when he invited Spock over for another round of chess. He barely made it through the matches, sorely losing all three because his mind had not been able to concentrate properly, spending too much time still thinking about how and when this all had started. And looking at Spock’s hands when he moved the chess pieces, one or two very inappropriate things about them crept uninvited into his mind.

After that evening, Jim had to admit to himself that things weren’t as easy as he would have liked. In fact, the longer it went on, the worse it got.

It soon turned into torture. Yet, he endured it every day. Put on a smile when he entered the bridge and got his job done. He also lay awake at night for much too long, punching his pillow in frustration. Aside from the fact that he seemed to have very little control over his body lately - having to jerk off more often than he could remember since his teenage days - this whole emotional rollercoaster was the worst.

He wanted to have Spock in his life, as his first officer and friend, wanted to be happy for him and for his obviously very fulfilling relationship with Uhura, wanted to enjoy their evenings together. But lately that had become nearly impossible, and more often than not, he found himself irritable, feeling sparks of anger at both Spock and Uhura whenever he saw them together. He didn’t seek Spock out for another evening of chess either.

He really didn’t want to feel this way, this… lonely. Like, despite the fact that he was constantly surrounded by other people, he had no real connection to any of them; like they all were this huge, inter-webbed team and family, and he was standing somewhere apart, only observing from a distance.

He still had Bones, though. And Bones wouldn’t have been Bones if he hadn’t come to Jim, two days before his twenty-ninth birthday, with a bottle of Andorian brandy and a Tellarite poker set.

“So,” Bones started as the two AI’s laid out their cards, and it was Jim’s turn to draw. “Wanna tell me what’s up?”

“The ceiling,” Jim replied stubbornly.

“Oh ha-ha,” Bones said, laying his holographic hand face-down on the game surface. “You’ve been wearing a face as long as a fiddle, Jim. So something’s up.”

“Nothing’s up,” Jim replied, feeling defiant and definitely not ready to talk about what had been bothering him. “Oh look, I’ve got a purple seventeen!” Jim laid the card onto the board, and the computer immediately announced: ‘Invalid move’.

Jim groaned and put the card back, noticing that Bones was eyeing him with raised eyebrows.

“You know, Jim. I’m a doctor, not an idiot. I can tell when something’s bothering you.”

“Yeah, but you’re also a doctor, not a psychologist, so--”

“Human psychology is part of the curriculum at med school, just so you know,” Bones interrupted him. “And I know for a fact that keeping things locked up and throwing away the key is as good as giving your house up to be eaten by termites.”

Jim briefly frowned at the very colourful and a little ridiculous metaphor, but that only distracted him from the main point for a second.

“I’m just saying,” Bones started again, obviously having caught Jim’s look, “that talking helps, you know?”

“Yeah, but maybe I’m not ready to do that,” he replied, his voice going up in irritation. He quickly downed the remainder of his brandy and poured himself a new one.

Bones was still looking straight at him. “It’s Spock, isn’t it?”

It was like being dowsed in cold water. A feeling like his heart had stopped beating in his chest for a second, only to thump at twice its frequency a second later.

“What about him?” Jim only managed to ask, desperately fumbling in his mind for an escape. Somewhere farther in the back of it, there was a question of _why_ exactly Bones mustn’t know, _why_ it was such a bad idea to talk about it. He could find no answer, but the feeling of shock and mortification remained.

“Jim, I’ve known you for, what now? Seven years? And the green-blooded hobgoblin for nearly four. I’ve seen you around each other. You were like… like a cat and a dog at first, completely incompatible, wagging tails for completely different reasons. But then you learned to understand each other, and now, for some reason, you’re running around with drooping ears and--”

“Jesus Christ, Bones! Enough with those _damned_ metaphors. I’m not a dog.”

Bones let out a sigh, rolling his eyes slightly, but a soft smirk formed around his lips. “It wasn’t so bad. Spock’s totally a cat.”

For some strange reason, that made Jim chuckle, and he inhaled deeply before releasing a long, exasperated breath. “He kinda is.”

“So what did he do?” Bones went on. “Lash out and scratch your muzzle?”

Jim pressed his eyes shut, trying to push out the ridiculous image of Spock as an actual cat, sleek and black, and himself as some kind of light brown, scruffy mutt.

“No, that’s not it,” he admitted, feeling an odd mix of relief and fear at where this was going.

“Then what is it, Jim?” Bones asked, his tone softer now. He leaned forward over the table, one elbow propped on the surface. “You’ve been acting strange lately. Kind of distant and… where’s that spring in your step? The shit-eating grin and overall…” He made a waving motion with his hand, fishing for a proper expression. “Enthusiasm for things?”

God, this was awkward. It was one thing letting Bones know about his sexual conquests - with him often having witnessed their beginning. Actually talking about his feelings, about feelings he, himself, didn’t even fully understand, was an entirely different beast.

“It’s complicated,” was the thing he finally got out, barely feeling comfortable enough to say.

He heard another sigh from Bones, a long, drawn-out one, and saw from his peripheral vision how his friend reached for the brandy bottle and refilled their glasses. “You’ve got feelings for him.”

Jim took a rather large sip from his glass, knowing his lack of an answer was as good as a ‘yes’.

“I’m not surprised, you know?”

“No, I don’t,” Jim replied, still not fully looking back up. There was that heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach again that he had hoped not to experience tonight. This evening should have been fun, should have distracted him from all of that.

“Well, I’m not. Like I said, metaphors aside, the way you two went from complete loathing to working really, really well together… Phew.” He shook his head slightly and drank from his own brandy. “Spock really respects you, admires you even. Of course, you’d react to that.”

It was a very simplistic explanation for something much more complex, vaster and deeper, still completely unfathomable but… true nonetheless.

“You respect and admire me, and I didn’t fall for you,” Jim said, the small smirk on his lips feeling less amused than he’d have hoped for.

“Now, that’s stretching the facts a bit,” Bones replied in good humour and clapped Jim’s shoulder, his hand staying in place for a while in an encouraging, comforting grasp.

“How the hell did this happen, Bones?”

“You tell me, kid,” Bones replied softly. “How exactly do these things ever happen? All I know is: you and Spock have something special. Something I couldn’t ever measure up to.”

Despite the rather depressed mood Jim was in, something warm and pleasant tugged at the centre of his chest at the words, and he didn’t find it so hard to give his friend a small smile. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

“Hell no,” Bones snorted, and Jim let out a faint chuckle. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I love you to hell and back, but you’re more like the pain-in-the-ass little brother I never had than anything else.”

“I _was_ kidding, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

Jim was quiet for a while, just sipping his brandy, feeling the sharp warmth of it running down his throat.

“God, Bones, what do I do?” Jim groaned out eventually, rolling his eyes at himself in the process. “I mean what do I-- is there even… no.”

“Is there even a chance, you’re asking?” Bones completed the words Jim hadn’t wanted to spill out. Once they were out there, however, the answer was pretty clear.

“Yeah, no. There isn’t. I mean, he and Uhura even celebrated their four year anniversary a while ago. Doesn’t look like that’s gonna end anytime soon.”

“Oh, did they?” Bones asked, brows going up a bit. “Makes you wonder how she endured it with the pointy-eared bastard that long.”

“Hey, watch it,” Jim said with a not too serious reprimand.

Bones just rolled his eyes and chuckled faintly. Taking another sip of brandy, he set the glass back down. “I don’t think there’s anything you _can_ do. At least not going in that direction. You wouldn’t want to break them up.”

“Yeah, no, I wouldn’t,” Jim agreed, a part of him, a very big part, not liking his answer in the slightest. “Even if I wanted to, I don’t think I’d have a chance. They love each other.” And damn, that actually hurt. “God, this is ridiculous,” he said, more at himself than Bones.

His friend regarded him quietly again before he exhaled audibly. “You know what you can do? You get over it. Simple as that sounds. You’ve been through much worse before, and you’re not the first person to be in love with someone they can’t have. I know it can hurt like hell, but it’ll get better eventually. Until then, you just take it day by day. Find something that distracts you, that you can draw something good from.”

Jim nodded slowly, processing what his friend had said. It was sound advice, and there was no reason why it shouldn’t work. The only problem was that one of the biggest things he had drawn something good from over the past months, _years_ , had been his friendship with Spock. Now, he didn’t even know how to keep it alive keep it alive under the strain of his stupid, unrequited feelings. Just sitting there, playing chess together like they used to… it felt a lot harder. But giving that up completely also wasn’t an option. Losing Spock all together was so much worse than losing him in a way he never had in the first place.

“You know, you’re not so bad at this,” Jim said at last, after what felt like at least a minute or two of silence between them. It had probably been shorter.

“Yeah?” Bones asked, a crooked smile on his lips. “Comes with the wisdom of old age.”

This time, Jim really had to laugh, although the sound was rather quiet and short. “Okay, grandpa.”

“Guess I had that comin’,” Bones replied in amused exasperation. He gave Jim’s shoulder another friendly smack and took up his cards again. “Come on now, let’s finish this game. Try to have a bit of a good time.”

Jim nodded slowly, reaching for his own cards. Although it didn’t push away that heavy, aching feeling in his chest completely, he did feel a bit lighter.

~*~

When Jim was a kid, he’d often dreamed about the stars. Long nights were spent looking out of the window in the solitude of his room, up into the dark Iowa sky. When the air had been especially crisp and clean, there had been thousands of them above, millions even, or more than that - more than the brain of a child as young as he had been was able to comprehend. It had been beautiful, like a canopy embroidered with countless sparkling little crystals, on a cosy bed when there was someone there to tuck you in. When he had looked up at the night sky for long enough, it had _felt_ almost like it was a such a cosy, warm, velvety blanket, enveloping earth, his town and him in its warmth and care.

Despite learning at a very young age that his impression was a mere illusion - that the sky went on and on and on, endlessly, one star following the next and then another, far beyond the reach of human imagination - he had still found solace in it. After particularly bad days when his mother was off planet and Frank was especially moody and cruel, when he felt the loneliest and the most hopeless in the harsh light of day, he’d looked up to the stars at night and imagined what it would be like up there, among them, far, far away from Earth and from everything down there.

Maybe that _was_ where people went when they died. Where his dad was. And on some nights, he had thought that, perhaps, if he only wished hard enough, or was brave enough to make a leap, he’d be able to join him there.

As the years had passed and he’d grown up, Jim’s concept of what the stars were had changed. Reality had brought a whole set of different perspectives and destroyed some of his dreams. But the calming effect the night sky had - glittering with billions of bright stars among that soothing blackness - had never fully left him.

They were at impulse power in orbit of an unknown stellar system, monitoring its planets. Jim stood at the large bay window of the observation deck and watched as the stars passed by, unknown constellations reaching far into the darkness. He had no sense of how much time had really passed, like when you were on a hover-train ride and watched the landscape pass by, deep in thought, yet at the same time not thinking anything in particular at all.

The faint sound of a door swooshing open pulled him from that trance-like state, and yet Jim didn’t turn towards it. The particular rhythm of those slow and even steps, as well as the fact that no words of greeting were uttered gave him a good idea of who had joined him.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” he asked softly as he saw Spock enter his peripheral vision. “I mean, we’ve seen so many stars on our voyages, but still… whenever I take the time to look, it still blows my mind, you know?” Jim breathed out a small chuckle, shaking his head softly at himself. “Illogical, I know.”

“On the contrary, captain. To seek beauty is a universal concept to all sentient species, one that my own is no stranger to.”

It made Jim smile softly, and he lowered his gaze from the sky outside for a moment before it went up to Spock, to his soft glance, the barely-there smile on his lips. Spock was, in every sense of the word, beautiful. Jim had to look down again before he let his gaze linger too long, let himself get lost. The stars out there, incomprehensibly far as they were, seemed much easier to grasp.

“I guess there’s logic in beauty,” he went on to divert his attention back, wondering how a Vulcan perceived beauty. “It’s mathematical. The Fibonacci sequence, for example.”

“Yes, that is one aspect of it,” Spock agreed.

“But the stars don’t follow that. There’s no order, no perfect spirals or golden ratio out there. So wouldn’t that make it illogical?”

Spock shifted his weight a little, and Jim was aware of the increased closeness. It was almost like he could feel the warmth radiating from Spock’s body.

“There is no exquisite beauty without some strangeness in the proportion,” Spock said, and Jim had a feeling he had read that somewhere before. After a pause, both men standing and looking out towards the stars, Spock continued. “It may not be mathematical, and yet I find that I quite agree with your perception.”

Jim suppressed a sigh and covered it with a smile, just briefly inclining his head to catch Spock’s eye. He could stand here and watch the stars with him for hours. And he’d find some peace in that.

To his surprise, Spock remained quiet for a long while after that, almost as if he shared the sentiment, and Jim wondered if... No, he wished that Spock enjoyed his company in this particular moment as much as he did. Although, for Jim, there was a bittersweetness to it.

In a different world, under different circumstances, Jim would follow his longing to reach out, cross the distance between them with his hand and grasp Spock’s. But instead, his hands remained propped on the cool metal frame of the window. Seconds stretched to minutes and passed silently between them. It was not something they’d ever done before.

“Sorry Spock,” he said, shaking his head softly as he caught himself in his reverie. “I… was there something you needed?”

Spock regarded him, one eyebrow slightly raised. “If there was something that required your attention I would have mentioned it,” he replied, though it didn’t sound like a reprimand, and there was no trace of sarcasm or superiority in his rather soft gaze or the lower tone of his voice. Could it be that Spock had merely sought out his company? After all, they hadn’t spoken in private for quite a while.

Jim just gave him a small smile again and decided not to ask. He couldn’t find any other logical explanation, but he didn’t want to risk destroying the illusion. To think that Spock had missed him was too good a feeling to give it up just yet.

Jim looked back out towards the stars and imagined a world in which, just for now, there was nobody else but them.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody, so sorry for the delay! I wasn't feeling well on Friday and didn't have much time yesterday. But here's the new chapter now. I do hope you enjoy it. We get to see something a little different now.

 

In the weeks that followed, things got a little bit better. Jim still had that feeling deep in his chest whenever he was not distracted by his work during the day, most nights before he went to sleep, and definitely every time he saw Spock on the bridge. Like the proverbial devil on his shoulder, that feeling accompanied him, making him yearn for something he knew he couldn’t have. And he doubted that feeling would disappear anytime soon.

Still, things had gotten better, and Jim, following Bones’ advice, tried to take whatever he could, tried to draw strength from the knowledge that there definitely was a deep connection between him and Spock. He tried to tell himself that what he wanted wasn’t that different from what he already had; it would just add sex and physical affections to the equation. And while he yearned for it with an aching that would put the heroine of the 21st-century classic he was currently reading to shame, what he _did_ currently have put his mind and heart at peace. At least somewhat. Enough for him to feel a genuine smile spread on his lips every time Spock raised an eyebrow at something outrageously illogical someone else had said and exchanged a glance with Jim. Or even a deep and heartfelt laugh when Spock, insisting that Vulcans did not joke, said something Jim knew was meant to be funny - to him… _for_ him.

It was never physical between them, but Spock _was_ affectionate. Jim was sure of that now. He often tried to recall moments in their past when signs of that fact had been present. It was a bit hard to tell them apart from instances of a mutually respectful professional partnership, but he found them. Like when Spock had sought him out to play chess. When, despite Jim expecting to be lectured on logic, Spock had found the right words to make Jim feel like they weren’t that different after all. When, without anyone else catching them, Spock gave him one of those tiny Vulcan smiles at reaching an understanding, or at sharing a thought. When Spock stood a little bit closer than he used to, having reached a level of platonic intimacy with him that made him comfortable enough to share his personal space.

And even before that, there had been a respect there that Jim didn’t even fully know how he had deserved. A respect that had made the Vulcan abandon logic and facts, and trust _Jim_ , trust him on something as intangible and nonsensical as a gut feeling. And then, there had been that moment at the warp core, hands almost touching, if it weren’t for the glass to separate them; Spock’s grief written so clearly over his face, etched into his breaking voice. People didn’t grieve like that if they only admired you on a professional level, _least_ of all Vulcans.

What he and Spock had was not quite what Jim wanted. But it was _something_. Something really good. Something nobody could take away from him. And as long as he had it, he was going to be okay.

 

~*~

It was a class L planet, approximately two thirds the size of Earth, the second in a yet to be named star system. While the close-proximity scans had shown no signs of sentient life, they had detected a breathable atmosphere and some microorganisms as well as simple plants. Furthermore, there were indications of subterranean water reservoirs and some structures underneath the rock and soil that might indicate that a civilisation might have inhabited the planet before. In any case, it was worth checking out and taking samples of the simple life forms still present.

Lieutenant Ross, who specialised in Xenobotany, accompanied Jim and Spock, as well as their expert geologist Lieutenant D’Amato. Strictly speaking, and by Starfleet regulation, Jim should not have been among the away team, but he had been aching to see something different than the insides of his ship for ages. And so Spock, after reminding him of the fact pro forma, had grudgingly agreed to his coming along.

The planet really wasn’t the most inviting place Jim had ever set foot on. With only nineteen and a half per cent oxygen in the atmosphere, the air felt thick and heavy, and the 1.2 comparative gravity made it harder to walk over the uneven, sandy and rocky ground. It reminded him a bit of Mars or - from pictures and videos of it - Vulcan.

“There’s a cave up there,” Ross said, pointing towards a small range of hills, some two hundred metres to their right.

Immediately, both D’Amato and Spock pointed their tricorders in its direction as Jim followed them with his gaze. Caves were almost always interesting, and the chances to find life forms or even remnants of a civilisation there were much higher.

“Do you think it’s safe to enter?” he asked as they all walked closer.

“It must be comprised of some kind of granite,” D’Amato replied, reading his tricorder. “Seems to have excellent structural integrity.”

Jim more automatically than consciously looked towards Spock who, upon finding his gaze, nodded. “The Lieutenant is correct. The density of the rock is one point three-seven-eight times higher than of Terran granite. And I detect signs of moisture in the lower layers.”

“Oh, a water source?” Lieutenant Ross asked, her face lighting up. “Maybe we’ll find some of those microorganisms there.”

Jim nodded, both Ross’ and D’Amato’s excitement forming a smile on his lips. He did not fully share the enthusiasm for everything in their respective fields, but new minerals and bacteria were definitely something worth finding. “Kirk to Enterprise,” he spoke into his communicator. “We’re about to enter a cave system for further examination. Communication might get blocked for the duration. We plan to initially stay for one hour.”

“Alright, Captain,” he heard Scotty on the other end. “If ye’re not out again in an hour, we’re sending someone down.”

“Good. Kirk out.”

There was always a little bit of a risk, even if the structure of the cave didn’t point at any dangers at the moment, but it was his job to make sure his team would make it out safely despite any eventualities.

The entrance to the cave was wide enough for all four of them to walk side by side, but after about twenty meters, the passage became narrower, and they had to walk in tandem, Spock leading the way. The light from outside had soon faded completely, and they had to rely on their flashlights, walking a good distance through the simple passageway before they came to a larger cavity.

As soon as their lights hit the walls - at least six meters high and more than fifteen apart - he heard both Ross and D’Amato gasp in awe. The walls were covered in something that looked like very fine moss, but it was shimmering in the brightest colours, sparkling like diamonds when the artificial light hit it.

“Wow, this looks… just…” D’Amato was obviously at a loss for words, and Jim could hardly blame him. “Are those--?”

“They’re eukaryotes, not plants,” Ross replied as she stepped closer to the wall, scanning its surface. “They seem to be some kind of fungus. But I’ve never seen anything like this. Look at how the colours are changing!” As she swayed her flashlight over the surface, the colours twinkled from deep pink to lime green, orange, or dark blue, depending on the angle of the light.

“The cells’ membranes have a structure comprised of triangular prisms,” Spock informed them as he, too, was scanning the fungus.

Ross was already carefully taking a sample, and Jim had to smile, letting the awe of the sight wash over him as his crew worked.

After a while, Spock stepped back from the wall, and Jim felt like they were pulled towards each other almost automatically, standing side by side.

“It’s no hidden city,” Jim said with mild but not serious regret in his tone. An architectural discovery would have been much more interesting to him, personally, and probably also more ground-breaking, but he could still appreciate this.

“It is not. It is, however, no less fascinating,” Spock said. His tone might have appeared even and factual to most anyone, but Jim had a feeling that Spock was experiencing a similar kind of awe as he had expressed about the stars - the same beauty with some strangeness to its proportion.

“It _is_ fascinating,” Jim found himself agreeing quite easily, giving Spock a small smile.

The cave split into two more passageways, and, after having taken enough samples, they decided to follow the right one. There was less of the fungus in the narrower cavity, but soon, the path spread again into another cave that was even bigger than the first, its walls rougher and broken by a multitude of little hollows and protrusions.

Ross and D’Amato remained together, scanning the organisms covering a large boulder-like structure that formed a barrier on the ground. Next to it, a deep chasm split the middle of the cave, its bottom too deep for the human eye to spot. D’Amato immediately came up with theories on how this particular cave could have been formed while Spock walked in the opposite direction, where the cave became darker and narrower again. Jim decided to follow him, still well in sight of the other two crew members.

“Captain, look,” Spock said suddenly, and this time, even a stranger could not have missed the surprise in the Vulcan’s tone. As Jim followed the cone of his flashlight, he saw the fungus on the walls and ceiling of the cave _move_. Gently and slowly like the waves of an ocean they swayed and rolled over the rock, changing colour and sparkling with a multitude of reflected light. Jim had to admit that this really was one of the most beautiful things he had seen in his entire life.

“Why are they moving now?” he asked and heard the steps of the other two scientists come closer, equally awed sounds leaving them as soon as they spotted what Jim and Spock were seeing.

But there was a slight frown on Spock’s features now. He looked up and pointed his tricorder in direction of the passageway. “It appears to be wind.”

“Wind, but… oh, is there another exit that way?” D’Amato asked.

“It appears so,” Spock replied, still scanning and leading the way in its direction.

Jim briefly checked his chronometer and found that they had only sixteen minutes left to make contact with the Enterprise again. It was most convenient to have found an exit now. Otherwise, they would have had to hurry on their way back.

But… wind?

“Mister Spock, how strong would the wind outside have to be for us to feel it in here?”

The look on Spock’s features as he read his tricorder filled Jim with a sense of trepidation.

“It appears that we are approximately one-hundred-three meters inside the cave system. Given the fact that the scanner is not detecting any residual light, the passageway leading outside must be winding and significantly longer than its reach.”

Jim didn’t like the sound of that. “I calculate a wind force of roughly ten on the Beaufort scale, captain.”

A proper, violent storm. Jim let out a long sigh. Looking back up at the walls, searching for an indicator that the wind had maybe lessened, he only found the moss-like fungus to dance even faster, the peaks of the waves getting higher so that it looked like they were about to break. “Guess we’ll have to stay in here and wait it out then.”

Behind him, Lieutenant Ross suddenly gave a violent cough, and a second later, he heard D’Amato retch and wheeze as well. The waves on the wall next to them had, indeed, broken, and the air was filled with a misty, glittering fog.

“Cover your mouths and noses!” he shouted, pulling the sleeve of his own uniform forward to breathe through it even though he already felt the spores crawl inside his lungs, making them constrict painfully with the urge to cough.

“Spock, where to?” he asked, holding his science officer’s gaze and trying to hide the panic in his own eyes.

But Spock was fast, his brain working much better to calculate their options than Jim’s could have.

“Back the way we came,” he replied, briefly pushing Jim forward, who coughed and had to blink against the biting, stinging fog.

Spock’s decision made sense. They had been on the opposite side of the weather face when they entered the cave, and the fungus there had been less dense. It was the only option they had to get away from the potentially deadly spores and not run straight into what could become a hurricane-strength sandstorm. With less of the fungus in the next passageway, they had the time to search for their breathing masks and make sure they would not suffocate, but the effect of the spores was nonetheless present. Now, Jim’s skin felt like it was on fire, as if he’d fallen into a bush of stinging nettles.

He heard Spock attempt to contact the Enterprise again. While he seemed to be less affected by the spores, he still urged them on, putting his hand on Jim's back to do so. However, they were still unable to make contact with the ship. Jim could hear Ross wheezing, and D’Amato, who was coughing less, leading her forward.

They reached the first cave again. Jim instinctively held his breath and pressed his eyes shut to slits, just following the vague blue blob of movement next to him. He heard D’Amato give a small yelp and stumble, and this time it was Ross who helped him up as they all hurried out of the cave and away from the high fungal concentration.

Just a few more minutes and they’d be out of here. Or, if that was impossible, at least they’d be by the entrance cave where there had been none of the fungus.

Just around another bent, a few meters on and—

“Captain, the concentration of spores is still high,” he heard Spock say. He could hardly see now, his eyes burning and stinging worse than when he’d accidentally rub them after having chopped onions or chilli peppers.

“Outside?” Jim just managed to get out, startled at how hoarse and thick his own voice sounded.

Spock held Jim’s upper arm in a strong grasp, as if to prevent him from leaving the cave. The static from his communicator started to buzz and crackle. And then, softly and broken but audible:

“Spock? Can you hear me?” Nyota, at last.

“Yes. Can you beam us out?”

“No, not yet. The sandstorm is interfering with the transporter signal. Where are you? Is everyone okay?”

Ross was still coughing, and this time it was so bad that Jim wasn’t sure how Spock would even answer that question.

“For now, yes. And we are at the exit of the cave we initially entered. The system is inhabited by a fungus that has started to release spores which seem toxic to the human respiratory system. I find myself only mildly affected.”

“How long can they hold out?” Nyota asked, urgent worry in her tone.

Ross was retching now, and through his burning eyes, Jim could see she’d fallen to the ground.

“No more than a minute.”

“Alright, Spock. We need you to get out of there and around the right face of the hill to your left. The storm lessens there, and commander Scott says he’ll be able to beam you up. Can you do it?”

Jim looked back at his two crew members and then at Spock. He nodded.

“Affirmative,” Spock replied at last and, after another nod from Jim, who already started towards the exit, he went to help Ross and D’Amato up.

The storm outside was so bad that Jim could almost lean his full weight against it when he reached the exit. And he had to, lest he lose his footing and be swept away in the other direction. It couldn’t be far though, as the wind was hitting the face of the rock frontally. Just a little bit around the bend, as Uhura had said, and they wouldn’t be in the wind current’s centre any longer. There were still swirls of wind pushing and pulling against him, but at long last, his lungs could draw breath, the thin sheet of fabric preventing sand from getting in. His eyes, however, could hardly see.

“Uhura to Spock. Are you out of the cave?”

“Yes.”

“Then stick to the hill and follow it north. We’ll beam you up as soon as we have you.”

“Understood.”

It was a hard effort, but at least it was manageable. They stuck close together now, Jim first and Spock bringing up the rear. One hand constantly on the face of the rock for support, Jim followed the narrow path – a steep cliff to his left led down to the plateau. The wind seemed to lessen slowly but surely.

“Kirk to Enterprise, Commander Scott,” he tried, turning towards the face of the rock to shield himself from the wind, and he was relieved to find that his voice was working better.

“Aye captain.”

“Can you lock on to us?”

“Not yet. We’re seeing you, but we cannae beam you out yet. Just a wee bit more, captain.”

Jim leaned against the cold, hard wind, sand hitting his face and scratching it raw. But he’d worry about that later.

“Come on, we’re almost there,” he said over his shoulder to his crew. To his relief, he saw Ross nod at him, looking better than she had in the cave. They’d make it, at least.

Jim had not even finished that thought when suddenly, a violent squall hit them. He was pushed hard against the rock’s face, almost losing his footing. He heard D’Amato yelp and then something crack and tumble. And when he looked back, he saw Spock, four or five meters behind them, clutching on to a protrusion while he hung above the abyss where there had previously been a path.

“Spock!” Jim’s heart leapt to his throat. His instinct was to get to Spock instantly, but at that moment, another piece of rock crumbled from the hill above, and everything was chaos.

It hit the path right next to Ross and D’Amato, and the narrow but even strip of soil tore down and was no more. The two lieutenants slipped and Jim leapt to their side, onto his front on the sandy ground. And just, _just_ in time, before he’d even fully made up his mind of what to do and how, his hand closed around Ross’ and caught her. D’Amato clung to her hips, still there, and Jim finally dared to breathe again. And Spock… A quick glance to his side told Jim that his first officer was still fighting with the rock himself, but steadily making the climb.

“Hold on! Hold on, okay?”

But Ross struggled, her hand sweaty and the other wildly fumbling for anything she could grab.

“Give me your other hand! Teresa, give me your hand!”

She was still moving, whether from her own exertion or the wind, Jim wasn’t sure. He felt panic rise in his chest. They were so close.

“I can’t,” she groaned out, face distorted with effort and fear.

“Yes, you can! You can!! Just give me your other hand!”

Her fingers started to slip. Jim couldn’t let that happen, had to shift his own weight to close both of his hands around her wrist. But just as he moved, he felt himself slide forward and quickly put his hand back on a piece of rock to hold himself steady. With just one hand around the lieutenant’s, he pulled with all his might.

Spock had reached the ledge and came rushing towards him. Just a second. Jim had just to hold on for another second, and Spock would be there to help, reach down and grasp Teresa’s other hand and—

It was maybe half a second. Half a second before Spock reached them. Half a second too early, her fingers slipped from his. She and D’Amato fell, screaming, deep down the cliff with virtually no chance of survival. And Jim, paralysed by shock and unable to tear his eyes away, barely noticed the moment Spock pulled him back from the edge just in time before he would have fallen down with them.

He’d almost had them. Almost. But now they were gone. Dead. And Jim couldn’t feel relieved for his own survival.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your comments! Here's the next chapter, a day earlier than last week. I do hope I can keep posting on the weekends.   
> As for this one, I hope you like it. And I'm curious what you'll think of it ;-)

At least his body felt numb now. His arms and legs heavy and his eyes not quite able to focus anymore, he barely noticed having slid down the armchair. The drink in his hand spilled over, but Jim didn’t care. Not about that.

Instead of refilling his glass, he reached for the bottle and drank straight from it. He didn’t even know what it was, really, having bought it ages ago at a space station. Jim didn’t even like the taste of it, but it got the job done - somewhat. In the very least, Jim was spectacularly drunk, but what the liquor didn’t quite manage to do was to drown the images that flared up in his brain every now and then. Most of all Teresa Ross’ eyes and the look of utter fear in them. Somewhere further down below, Robert D’Amato. Both their screams echoed in Jim’s mind again and again, and he wanted it to stop.

He’d lost crew members before, but that was over three years in the past now. And then, same as the time before, when he hadn’t even really been their captain yet, it had just been different. They had faced dangerous adversaries, unable to do anything but damage control. And most of those deaths had been in the middle of a battle. Not some… some stupid accident. Some colossally bad timing. His own incompetence.

He should have fought harder to hold on, that’s what Jim should have done. Could have done. If only he had possessed maybe a tenth more strength. Or been a split-second faster when he had reached for her hand in the first place.

But no, Jim had not been strong and fast enough and had failed two of his officers. His own inadequacy had cost their lives.

There was no way to get drunk enough to forget _this_.

Suddenly, he heard the chime of his doorbell, and Jim started, wondering who it might be. Bones maybe? To check on him? He’d spoil all the fun for Jim, surely. Though, fun was not precisely what he was experiencing, anyway. Nevertheless, he didn’t want his friend here… to see him like that.

“Go away!”

He was being stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He had lost people before. So why was he making such a big deal of this now? Some of the deaths he'd seen had even been more violent, but still, he just couldn’t… couldn’t get those images out of his mind. Not even with another gulp of that vile alcohol.

The door chimed again. Jim had almost forgotten already, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to do. Something told him to get up, but his legs didn’t really want to react to that. He was comfortable there on the floor, leant against his armchair. Maybe if he just ignored it, whoever had rung would go away.

But nope, another chime. And then – Jim wasn’t sure if it had been just a few seconds or longer – he heard the beeping of numbers being entered in the control panel, and the door of his quarters slid open.

Jim blinked against the harsh light of the corridor coming in, but the figure he saw stepped closer swiftly, and in the blur, Jim recognised who it was.

“Spock, whadeyer doin’ here? ‘m not in the mood for chess.”

Jim realised how ridiculous he sounded – both his speech and the words themselves – and it made him giggle. But only for a moment. Everything else in him still didn’t feel good. Not good at all.

“Captain, you are heavily inebriated,” Spock said with something that could have been concern in his tone. He came closer, squatting down in front of Jim.

“Yeah. No shit, Sherlock.”

“I understand it is a human peculiarity to consume large amounts of alcohol when one is distressed, but surely you know it is not going to—“

“Oh shuddup, Spock. Just lemme get drunk if I wanna get drunk.” Jim aimed to pat Spock on his shoulder but missed, and his hand fell feebly to the floor.

Now Spock was probably going to get defensive and condescending, but Jim couldn’t even care about that. He was an adult, goddammit. And if he wanted to drink himself into oblivion one night, he damned as hell had the right to.

But Spock _didn’t_ get defensive. Instead, one of his hands found Jim’s upper arm, squeezing it in a gentle but reassuring gesture. And didn’t that feel nice? So nice, that Jim didn’t even realise Spock had taken the bottle out of his hand and put it on the table.

“Jim,” he said softly, and, finally, Jim looked into his eyes. Dark brown and warm and full of sympathy. “I grieve with thee.”

Jim swallowed hard, fighting down the knot in his throat but unable to prevent it, unable to push back all those feelings that seemed even stronger now than before he started drinking (and yeah, go figure. Stupid).

“T’s all my fault. I did that.”

“No. You didn’t, Jim. If at all, it was the result of my not getting there faster.”

And wow, that was even worse. Spock couldn’t blame _himself_ for this, could he? Somehow, Jim must have said that out loud, because Spock continued. “We didn’t know the storm was coming. The weather on the planet changed so swiftly that none of us could have predicted it. And our scanners never indicated that the fungus contained potentially toxic spores. Captain… Jim. Today’s events were the result of highly unfortunate and unforeseeable circumstances neither of us is to blame for.”

The words sounded nice. Spock sounded so _nice_ , so worried for him, and Jim briefly basked in that feeling, but it still didn’t make the other feeling go away. This horrible, tight weight in his chest and the stinging in his eyes.

“Why does it get to me so much?” he asked, only then noticing that he must have started crying at some point, and yeah, that was humiliating. It was just that… he really couldn’t care.

“Because…” Spock started softly. His hand was still on Jim’s arm, having slid down now to the edge of the short sleeve of his uniform undershirt. And maybe he was imagining it, but he felt Spock’s thumb caress him soothingly through the fabric of his shirt and then, barely, brushing his bare skin. “Sometimes it is hard to accept that what is, is. To not feel guilt when one is grieving, and to see logic when feelings overwhelm us.”

Completely plastered as he may be, it hit Jim then that Spock had witnessed something very similar before. That he, too, had reached out a second too late once.

“Your mom?”

Spock nodded faintly, and - despite his blurry vision - Jim could see that his face looked so…  vulnerable. So different.

“I knew it was not logical, but I found myself reliving the moment of her passing, again and again, wondering what I could have done to prevent it.”

And god, that was so much worse, wasn’t it? Losing not just two great colleagues but your _mom_. And Jim had been such a dick to Spock afterwards.

“’M s-sorry, Spock.”

“Don’t be. I did not say it to add to your distress,” Spock said apologetically.

And God, why was he so nice? So… kind and beautiful and nice. Those big eyes looking at him so… nicely. And his thumb brushing over Jim’s arm. And leaning so close in front of him. And being there. Being Spock, and here and…

Jim kissed Spock. He nearly missed, but his mouth found Spock’s lips and was kissing them. And they were so soft, so overwhelmingly soft and warm and—

Spock tore himself away from Jim, back on his feet. And why was he doing _that_? He should kiss him back. Because it had felt so nice. It had been such a good idea to kiss him, and Jim had wanted to kiss him. Still wanted to kiss him. _So_ bad.

“Captain, you are distressed and inebriated. You are not in control of your own actions.” Spock sounded a lot less nice now, kinda freaked out, really.

Suddenly, Jim felt a little soberer, and dread washed over him.

“You are in need of medical aid. I will alert Doctor McCoy.”

“No, Spock, no,” Jim got out, trying to push himself back up to his feet. “’M fine.”

“You are hardly fine, captain,” Spock said, and he was probably right. Jim needed more booze.

He reached for the bottle, but Spock must have seen it and grabbed it before Jim could lay his fingers on it. “Hey, tha’s mine!” He needed that drink now. Needed to just fucking forget everything. Teresa and Robert. His stupid mouth and what it had said and done. “Give it back!”

He never figured out what exactly happened or how. A struggle broke out over the bottle. He must have stumbled over the table but couldn’t remember hitting it. And he kinda thought Spock had nearly fallen in the scuffle. Glass had broken. Then a hand reached for him, and everything went dark.

~*~

When Jim woke up, his head was throbbing, and that was the first and only thing he knew. What came next was Bones’ face, brow furrowed deeply as he looked down at Jim, and okay, he was in medical bay. Just why, Jim didn’t know—

It hit him quite suddenly, as if that memory had been buried underneath a veil of drowsiness and headache, but it was there now, clearly and completely. The planet, the storm. Ross and D’Amato, dead.

“You gave yourself alcohol poisoning,” Bones said as that part of Jim’s memory returned as well, albeit still blurry and vague. Somehow, it didn’t feel as important. “Worst case I’ve seen in a long time. How’s the head?”

“Feels like someone split it open with an axe.”

Jim expected a sarcastic remark, but instead, his friend sat down on a stool and just released a long, deep sigh.

“You know I should report this to Starfleet,” Bones said with constrained voice.

Jim was both confused and a little frightened. He let out a small laugh, aiming for incredulous but coming out mirthless. “Report this? Bones, I just had a bad day. And a few drinks. It’s nothing you haven’t done before either.”

“Jim, you didn’t have a few drinks. You almost drank an entire bottle of the stuff. You had an alcohol level of point three-seven.” His glare turned even more severe, but there was something in his eyes that was much worse than anger. “You _damn_ near killed yourself last night! So give me one good reason why I shouldn’t let Starfleet Command know that one of their captains is no longer fit for duty.”

The feeling of confusion shifted to shock, and Jim was at a loss for words. His head was still aching horribly, and his throat felt dry, but what was worse was that look on Bones’ face that Jim had never seen before. Like he was genuinely scared for Jim.

“I didn’t,” was the first thing he got out then. “Try to kill myself or anything. I swear. I had no idea the stuff was that strong.”

Bones sighed again but nodded. “You really worry me, kid.”

“I’m serious, Bones. What happened yesterday was just really… well. Tough. So I drank a little too much. A _lot_ too much,” he amended as he saw Bones’ admonishingly raised eyebrows. “But that’s really it, I swear. And… I’m sorry.”

“You should be.”

“I am.” Jim tried to give his friend a smile and earned a somewhat more characteristic, exasperated sigh this time.

“You were damn lucky Spock found you, you know? I don’t even want to think about what could have happened if he hadn’t thought to check on you.” Bones’ voice was cracking somewhere along his last few words, and a powerful wave of guilt hit Jim, making him swallow hard.

Then, something else stirred in his mind, and suddenly, he felt his heart beat right up his throat. Spock. He hadn’t just _found_ him. He’d been there and they talked and…

 _Oh fuck_.

“Everything alright?” Bones asked, his gaze on the monitor reading his vitals. His heartbeat had probably quite literally sped up just now.

“I’m… it’s nothing. I’m just really sorry. And embarrassed. Did Spock… what did he say?”

“Just that he found you barking at the moon drunk and thought it best to get you here. After nerve-pinching your ass so you wouldn’t put up a struggle.”

Jim’s first feeling was of relief, firstly that Spock hadn’t told Bones everything and secondly… maybe what Jim thought had happened hadn’t really happened? Maybe he hadn’t really _kissed_ Spock, and… But he saw it so clearly now, almost felt the ghost of those soft lips on his. He was just realising in the very last second that his hand was coming up on its own accord to brush his fingers over his own lips. He quickly changed direction and rubbed his temple instead.

“I’m going to up your dosage, but not by much. You’ve had enough poison in your system already,” Bones said and did something with a drip that Jim hadn’t even noticed being there in the first place. “And I should tell Spock you’re awake. He’s asked about you twice already.”

“Twice? How long was I out?”

“Nearly twenty hours.”

“Shit.”

“You don’t say.” Bones glared at him over his shoulder as he went to a cupboard to get another scanner or some other medical instrument. But at that moment, his gaze became distracted as he looked in direction of the entrance – at what, Jim couldn’t see behind the divider.

“Speak of the devil,” Bones said with a small chuckle and nodded at the newcomer, and Jim’s heart once more threatened to crawl out of his chest as he realised who it must be. He had meant to tell Bones that he’d see Spock tomorrow and that he should tell him, next time he asked.

He really couldn’t deal with this right now. But the universe didn’t seem to care.

Slowly, Spock stepped around the divider, hands clasped behind his back as he approached the medbed. Jim could hardly look at him, but he caught the concern in the Vulcan’s eyes anyway.

“I hope you are feeling better, captain.”

“Yeah, I… Bones has been taking good care of me. Listen, can we just—“

“I’ll leave you to it,” Bones cut in, just briefly sticking his head in their direction before he went and left for his office. The meddling bastard.

“Great,” Jim groaned faintly to himself, only then realising that Spock must have heard it anyway. So he actually had to deal with this now.

“Look, Spock, I’m sorry, okay?” he started, trying hard to ignore the thumping in his chest, the feeling of mortification and guilt. “And thank you, for…” He made a waving motion with his hand before he let out a small chuckle. “Saving my life, again, I guess.”

“As your first officer, it is my duty to see to your well-being.”

It wasn’t exactly what Jim would have liked to hear. More something along the lines of Jim being Spock’s friend, but he could hardly blame Spock for keeping it at a professional level right now.

God, how could he have fucked up so badly? He needed to fix this, somehow.

“Look, um… About. Whatever I said or did last night, I was really, really drunk, okay? So don’t read too much into anything, alright?”

There was an odd, illegible expression on Spock’s face that made Jim wonder what exactly was going on behind those perfectly shaped eyebrows. He hoped it wasn’t any kind of resentment.

“I understand,” Spock said, at last, and Jim dared to breathe again.

“So we’ll just forget about that, okay?”

“I believe we will,” Spock replied, his tone even, as always.

“Good. Thank you, Spock,” Jim replied, letting out a slightly deeper breath. “And thanks again. Really.”

The look on Spock’s features softened a little, and he inclined his head for a tiny nod but didn’t say ‘you’re welcome’. Instead, he said, “Having assured myself that you are, indeed, well, I will return to the bridge now.”

“Yeah, you do that,” Jim replied, both glad and regretful to see him go.

For a moment, he allowed himself to wonder what would have happened if he had kissed Spock under different circumstances. But in the next, Jim knew that there was no point in contemplating this.

The answer was clear anyway.

  
  
  


 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, made it in time! ^^ My beta-reader had a really stressful week and even weekend again, but we worked on this chapter together just now.   
> Just a heads-up: there _might_ be delays in the future. I will always try to post as quickly as possible, but like I said, my beta-reader is very busy. 
> 
> I do hope you enjoy this chapter. I'm also really curious to hear what you think on my take on Nyota and her relationship with Spock. I tried to do something a little different from what I've read. I do hope you enjoy my version and the Nyota-heavy parts. Please let me know. :-)

She clung to him, one arm wrapped around his shoulder, her face buried in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent. Her breathing was going faster now, and she wished they had taken the time to remove her uniform’s undershirt as well. She was just so _hot_ , but couldn’t even care about it now. What his hand was doing stopped most rational thoughts, leaving just the amazing sensation of two long digits in her and the brush of his thumb on her most sensitive spot.

He was so, _so_ good at this. Left her breathless and aching and just so on the edge of falling for a few more moments. He knew the perfect rhythm, knew how to create the perfect friction, playing her with precision until all her muscles, her entire body went rigid with tension. Then, that feeling rose up to her belly, to her thighs and feet, tingling and pulling like a soft electrical current, and just when the tension became nearly unbearable, it was released. She throbbed around his fingers and gave a strangled cry near his ear, as wave after powerful wave pulsed through her lower body and chest.

She could do nothing but breathe, each puff released as a soft moan as the waves slowly ebbed and just her rapid heartbeat remained. The arm around his shoulder had slid limply to her side.

Spock removed himself from her side and got up from the small sofa. Before Nyota could find the strength - or the breath - in her to speak, he had already vanished into the bathroom, the sound of the sink telling her he was washing his hands. While that wasn’t unusual per se, she was a bit surprised he had not stayed with her a little longer.

Coming back, he handed her a damp washcloth, which added to her confusion. “Spock, I… We’re not done yet, are we? What about you?” She had hoped this had been just the prelude to much more, that they’d continue in bed and actually have sex with _each other_ , but Spock stood there, fully clothed. Any previous wrinkles in his shirt were smoothed out, and her hope vanished instantly.

“I am currently not in need of any physical stimuli.” In over four years with Spock, she had long gotten used to his rather distanced and sometimes stiff manner of expression when it came to sex, but at this moment he was pissing her off.

Feeling very naked all of a sudden, she used the washcloth to clean herself up hastily and put her panties back on. Where there had been intense pleasure just moments ago, there now rose another kind of throbbing, or rather, sizzling feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“So that’s all it is? A need for _physical stimuli_?” she retorted as she found her skirt, too.

Spock dared to give her the eyebrow. “That is the general purpose of intimacy, is it not?”

“No, it’s not, Spock! It’s not _just_ that!” Her voice had risen involuntarily, breaking and trembling with a wave of sudden anger she couldn’t contain. Something prickled slightly in her eyes and nose and she had to take a deep breath to force it back down.

“It’s about being together, Spock. About being close, both physically _and_ emotionally,” she tried to reason, unable to conceal the desperation in her voice. “It used to be like that between us. But lately, it’s like you don’t even _care_.”

Something softened in Spock’s features then, and he took a step closer. She wished he’d touch her, but he didn’t.

“I do care, Nyota. I care about your emotional and physical well-being, and it was my intention to contribute to the latter, whilst not requiring the same thing at present.”

“So you…what? You brought me off even though you weren’t in the mood?” she tried reluctantly, unsure as to how that made her feel – grateful or even angrier. In the end, it just made her feel clueless and helpless.

“You haven’t been in the mood for a long time, Spock. And I don’t know why that is. What changed. And it’s not even just that. It’s like… like you’ve closed yourself off from me.” There was fear now, causing her heart to feel like it skipped a beat at the prospect of what this could mean. But Nyota Uhura had never run from hard questions before.

And then Spock was there, closing the distance between them, a hand reaching out for hers. Index and middle finger brushed against her own, and she felt the familiar tingling that gently rolled up her arm, right to her conscious mind. Felt a sense of sympathy and affection that was definitely still there. She leant against him, forehead resting on his shoulder as she drew that feeling in, and for a long moment that was enough. It would be okay.

“Is it about Jim?” she asked eventually. The feeling in her mind was gone as the touch of his fingers left hers. He placed them on her upper arm instead.

“Jim?”

Nyota gave a soft sigh and finally pulled herself away from Spock. She stepped to the replicator in order to get herself something to drink.

“I don’t know. I thought, maybe, after what happened when-- He seems a little depressed.”

A few weeks ago, they had lost two crew members, and Jim had not taken it well. Spock had remained woefully tight-lipped about the incident, but Nyota suspected the captain had drunk himself into a stupor. What else could explain his two-day absence from active duty that nobody had given an official explanation for?

After her glass was filled with grape juice and she took her first sip, she turned back towards Spock who still hadn’t said anything. “You worry about him.”

In over four years, she had learned to read him pretty well, to distinguish the most subtle expressions on his face and piece them together. After all, it wasn’t that much different from learning a new language. But sometimes - more often than not, lately - she still found it wasn’t a language she had mastered fully. Sometimes, it’s vocabulary seemed to change inexplicably. Right now was one of those moments.

“I do,” he said, but that was not the entire story. There was something else he didn’t tell her, and she didn’t know how to get it out of him.

“So… you’ve closed yourself off from me, we haven’t melded anymore because you didn’t want me to worry, too?” Somehow that didn’t sound right. She knew it, even while she spoke, but she wanted to see what Spock’s reply would be.

“No. That is not the reason.”

His voice had been soft, almost insecure, and Nyota was filled with a horrible sense of trepidation, even though she had no idea where this was going yet. She needed to sit back down, so she chose one of the two chairs at her small table, hoping Spock would sit down, too. After a short moment’s hesitation, he did.

“Then explain it to me,” she said, calmly, while her heart was still clenching inside.

“Nyota, everything I say to you will be the truth,” he started. He didn’t say ‘Vulcans cannot lie’, because he knew she knew that wasn’t the case. But he would not lie to her, and she believed him. That, at least, was a relief.

“I _do_ care about you, about your happiness and your well-being. And sometimes, I must admit, I find myself lacking in expressing it sufficiently. But my needs are not always the same as yours. However, my trying to meet them is not burdensome to me, nor should you ever worry about it being so.”

It was little consolation to the fact that she had been _burning_ with need for him for ages, and he hadn’t felt any desire for her. But she would have to learn to live with that. It still didn’t answer everything, though, and so she was glad when Spock continued.

“As for my not performing a mind-meld with you, there are certain risks involved. Risks that I thought I had explained to you before, but I see now that I have not done so sufficiently.  Repeated mind-melds between two people who share affection for one another can potentially form a permanent bond, even if it is not intended. My aim was to avoid that.”

As hopeful as she had been just moments ago - at them talking things out - she now felt like she had been slapped in the face. Her breath caught in her throat and something heavy and painful spread in her chest.

“So you wanted to avoid… a permanent bond with me.”

He must have realised how _that_ sounded, must have heard the bitterness in her voice, because Spock averted his eyes at that moment.

“Did your parents not share such a permanent bond?” she asked tersely, and Spock looked up at her again.

“Yes, but they entered it in presence of a Vulcan high priestess. It did not happen without both of their complete understanding and consent.”

It was the second time that relief washed over Nyota and sparked hope in her. She found herself breathing deeply once more, a tiny, huffed-out chuckle leaving her with it. It didn’t mean she was fully happy with his explanation or his views; if it had been up to her, an accidental bond sounded, well, not bad enough that she would have wanted to avoid it at all costs. At the cost of not sharing those intense, wonderful moments of connection any longer. Others might have even considered it romantic for such a bond to _just happen_ , and there was also the fact that, after over four years of being together, thinking about something permanent, something akin to marriage wasn’t unusual.

However, she also understood that such bonds were something very serious in Vulcan culture, and it made sense that Spock would not want to enter it without the official and proper ceremonies involved. Seeing that they were far from New Vulcan and any high priestesses who could conduct such a ceremony, preventing the bond from forming was the logical step.

Yet, despite all those understandable and logical reasons, she could not completely push aside the feeling of hurt and disappointment in her. He could have talked about this sooner, opened up to her. Or could have given her the prospect of wanting to bond, once the circumstances allowed for them to do it properly. But he hadn’t done that, hadn’t talked about it with her and just made the decision quietly by himself. Nyota didn’t quite know what to do with that information.

“Nyota?” Spock asked softly and pulled her from her thoughts.

She wasn’t sure of all the nuances of his question, but she hoped she was right in finding a trace of concern in it. An offering, maybe, for her to tell him what she needed from him.

“Can we,” she started, feeling her voice crack slightly. She cleared it and took a deeper breath. “Can we just lie down. Can you just hold me for a while?”

“Of course,” he replied, tone gentle, as he got up and took her hand to lead her towards the bed.

And when she rested her head on his shoulder, one arm slung around his middle while he held her close, she thought that this was enough. It had to be.

  
  


~*~

“You know, if I’m boring you I might as well go and have that drink with Scotty.”

Jim looked back up, gaze wandering from the pattern of his carpet he’d been absorbed in, to Bones at the other side of the small table. On the chessboard between them, Jim had just lost one of his two bishops, although he couldn’t quite remember how.

“Sorry. I was just thinking.”

Bones’ brows went up and he rolled his eyes. “You don’t say.”

Jim gave him a small, bashful laugh and tried to focus on the board again. Still, the smile on his lips faded much more quickly than he would have liked. Focusing on the game, he tried to come up with a strategy, but trying to think two, three steps ahead and anticipating Bones’ moves wasn’t a task that came easily to him tonight. At last, he moved one of his pawns, not sure it had been the right decision but finding that he didn’t much care.

“I’m having a bit of a déjà-vu here,” Bones said after a while of continued silence between them, and Jim gave him a quizzical look.

“You and me, sitting here over a game?” Bones prompted. “Something clearly bothering you but you staying as tight-lipped as a clam?”

Jim suppressed a groan. He should have seen this coming. “Can we just not do this?”

“Why? What’s so different about it this time?”

“Nothing. I just… there really isn’t anything to talk about.” That was a lie, and Jim knew that Bones saw right through it.

“Okay, Jimmy, here’s the deal,” Bones started, his voice having gone a little bit higher as it always did when he was determined and a little bit patronising. “You can either talk to me, or I’ll have you talk to Doctor Dehner.”

“What are you on about?” Jim gave an incredulous huff. “It’s not like I’m… depressed or something.”

“Not depressed, my ass,” Bones ground out between barely separated teeth, one hand rubbing his temple. “You know what’s in the medical encyclopaedia under depression? Your pretty picture!”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous,” Jim snorted. Whatever he was going through, this wasn’t depression. Jim knew what _that_ felt like, didn’t he? He just felt… sad, and tired and a little worn down. Not about to - in the spur of a particularly bad moment - drive a car down a cliff, or like lying in bed at night, crying until he couldn’t cry anymore and wishing he were dead. Compared to then, Jim felt peachy.

“You know, for someone who’s been celebrated for being the most intelligent and capable human Starfleet graduate in over half a century, you’re incredibly dumb,” Bones went on, his tone having shifted to genuinely frustrated now. He got up from his seat, pacing the room a few steps before continuing. Jim didn’t even have the time to form a proper reply. “I know basic psychology was on your curriculum, and you aced the test with flying colours, but somehow, you fail to recognize any of the signs when you’re concerned. Even though, as a captain, you are able to recognise the potential signs in any of your crew. Which means unless-“

“So I’ve been a little down lately,” Jim interjected, an exasperated sigh leaving him. “Everyone is sometimes, Bones. Big deal. What do you want me to do? Resign my commission just because I’m not super cheerful twenty-four-seven?”

“No, I _don’t_ want you to resign. And I don’t want to _have to_ relieve you of duty, either,” Bones grouched, still pacing. “Which is exactly why I’m bringing this up and giving you a chance to open your goddamned mouth and talk to me, goddammit!”

“I don’t think I want a therapist who’s that rude.” Jim tried to go for defensive humour, but it didn’t work, earning him only a hard glare from Bones, and not the smile he was half-expecting.

There was only silence between them again for a good while; Jim certainly wasn’t going to break it. If he had one thing left, it was his stubbornness.

But then, Bones sat back down, and his expression softened somewhat, as did his tone. “You don’t want a normal therapist.”

“You’re not wrong there,” Jim admitted at last. After all, back when he was a kid, it had taken his first therapist more than half a year to get through to him. And even then, Jim had let her barely scratch the surface, thinking he had dealt with most of it on his own and somehow grown out of it as the circumstances in his life changed and he had gotten away from Frank and his mostly absent mother.

“So…?” Bones said with emphasis and inclined his head to prompt Jim to go on.

“What, _now_?”

“No, not now. Tomorrow on the bridge.” Bones shot back. “Of course now, you Iowan imbecile.”

“Okay, seriously, Bones, that’s-- Just cut it out,” Jim said, feeling a little bit affronted.

Bones rolled his eyes but then gave him a small apologetic smile.

Jim remained quiet, feeling an odd sense of apprehension and shame in the pit of his stomach. He really hated this, hated talking about his _feelings_ , but he also knew Bones would not let it go.

“I don’t really know where to start.” Unintentionally, the words came out more helpless than exasperated, and it irked Jim that Bones’ gaze softened some more in response to that.

“How are you coping with the loss of two of your crew members?”

“It’s been almost two months, so yeah, I’m coping,” Jim said, and that wasn’t even a lie. Sure, it had been a shock. Having to deal with it and everything that came afterwards - especially recording a heartfelt message to Ross and D’Amato’s families - had been difficult. He hadn’t even been able to talk to them face to face, being too far away into uncharted space, though he wasn’t sure if it would have actually lessened the burden. Most of all, the guilt of not having been able to prevent their deaths had stayed with him for many nights, but that was… normal, he guessed.

“And how do you feel about it, today?”

Jim squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head slowly. “God, Bones. Don’t _shrink_ me.”

“I’m not,” Bones replied with barely concealed exasperation.

“You’re doing the whole ‘asking me questions until I figure out the answer myself’ thing,” Jim shot back. “That’s just awkward! You want us to talk, so talk to me like you’re my friend and not like a shrink.”

“Well, right now I have to be both,” Bones replied as he poured both himself and Jim a glass of water.

“Can we at least have a drink with this?” Jim asked, but Bones shook his head.

“As much as I know that booze loosens up your tongue, you’ve got to do this sober. Especially after what happened last time.”

“What’s supposed to happen? You’re here, right? You’d stop me from indulging too much,” Jim replied with a slightly wry smirk. This really would be so much easier with alcohol.

“Don’t be so sure, kid. You’ve been making me want to drink myself into oblivion for a while now,” Bones said, tone dead-serious. But his eyes betrayed his words with a small glint of humour.

“Wow, that’s comforting. Are you really sure you’re qualified for this?”

“I thought you didn’t _want_ a shrink.”

They both laughed softly, and Jim shook his head at the ridiculousness of the entire situation. His gaze drifted back to the floor, not really focusing on it but having nowhere else to look.

He just didn’t know what to say. Didn’t want to bring it all to the surface.

“How’ve things been going with Spock?” Bones asked then, and Jim took a deep breath.

“Bingo,” he said softly. No point denying it.

“Not so good then. What happened?”

“Uhh…” Another long, deep breath, and Jim brought a hand up, rubbing the back of his neck. For some reason, he felt rather tense quite suddenly. “He’s been kinda avoiding me. I think. He’s always busy with something, and he hasn’t asked me to play chess for a while, and I haven’t either. So maybe we’re avoiding each other, I don’t know.” But that wasn’t all. At least Jim had looked at him, had smiled at him in a ‘good morning’ sort of way and nodded ‘goodbye’ while Spock had been… distant. Their interactions completely reduced to the professional side. As if they’d never even been friends.

“Any idea why?” Bones asked, genuine sympathy and concern in his gaze, and it was, in a strange way, both better and worse than talking to a therapist who remained mostly neutral and distanced.

“Yeah, I do,” Jim replied, and fuck, that hurt. Because it was another thing he’d messed up.

He heard Bones inhale and saw him open his mouth – most likely to ask Jim to elaborate – but Jim beat him to it.

“I, erm, kissed him. That night when he brought me to sickbay.”

Bones’ eyes widened immediately and his lips parted slightly, and Jim had to laugh at that, shaking his head again and letting out a small bitter sigh. “Yeah. I completely fucked that up. He’s probably weirded out by it and doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore. So that’s that.”

“ _Or_ ,” Bones started after a moment, and with emphasis, “he’s being cruel to be kind?”

“I don’t know, Bones. I just… it feels like I lost him.” He didn’t want his voice to crack, didn’t want to feel a stinging in his eyes, but the thing was, he was just too tired to fight it.

“Jim, I don’t know,” Bones said gently. “Spock really cares about you. It really doesn’t sound like him to drop you like a hot potato just because you got drunk and kissed him.”

“I don’t know if he thinks it was just that,” Jim admitted, hating having to say it, having worked so hard into pushing that thought aside for so long. But Bones raised his eyebrows quizzically, and Jim knew he couldn’t just leave it at that.

“I think he did that telepathy thing with me, you know? He touched my arm. And I think, I’m not sure, but I think it’s like a rudimentary telepathic link.” Drunk as he had been, Jim could still feel that warm sense of sympathy that had reached him through the touch. He had not imagined _that_ part. And if it worked one way…

“You think he knows?” Bones asked, and Jim could see he was doing his best to conceal his alarm. “That you have feelings for him, I mean?”

Jim shrugged, gulping away the knot in his throat. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

Bones was quiet for a moment, probably having to let that sink in.

“Look, Jim, I’m really sorry. But this doesn’t have to mean your friendship is over. I really don’t think Spock would—“

“Maybe it’s for the best,” Jim cut him off, not really knowing where that thought had come from. And while it hurt like hell, it was probably true.

“Ooh, don’t say that,” Bones said, sympathy and regret clear in his voice. “You two were always so great together.”

“Yes, but I don’t think I can do this anymore, you know?” Jim replied, feeling his own voice crack again and go hoarse. There was a heavy weight in the middle of his chest, and he desperately wished he could do something to make it go away. Drink or sleep or fuck. Just something. Anything.

Bones let out a long, deep sigh and nodded slowly. “God Jim, I’m so sorry about this. It certainly ain’t fair. But you’ll get through this. And I’ll help you any way I can.”

Jim wanted to smile at him with gratitude, feeling he was past the awkwardness now, but somehow he didn’t find the strength to do so. He felt worse now than before they had started talking, worse even for the realisation he had just made. Or admitted to himself, at long last. Yes, he and Spock always _had_ been great together. Unbeatable. And without him, without his friendship, Jim felt like he was only half a person.

“You’re still going to say no if I say you’ll help me by giving me a drink, right?” Gallows-humour didn’t quite work either.

“Right,” Bones replied.

“I’m not an alcoholic,” Jim said not nearly as defensively as he had aimed for.

“I didn’t say you were. But in your current state, you should probably steer clear of any hard liquor for a while. Have a drink or two at a social event, but don’t drink alone. And don’t drink to drown your troubles. You know that doesn’t work anyway.”

Jim nodded. This would further restrict his drinking choices, as he had somehow lost the taste for tea, too. Maybe he could try some of the various fruit juices for a change, sometime.

“What I can give you is something herbal,” Bones continued. “Andorian basil is a mild natural antidepressant. Works better than St. John’s wort and has practically no side-effects to humans. I can’t give you any actual antidepressants because then I’d have to relieve you of active duty for eight weeks in the very least.”

“What? Are you serious??”

“Yes, Jim. I’m serious,” Bones replied sternly. “Because then I’d have to actually _diagnose_ you with depression, and that’s an automatic leave of absence for a commanding officer.”

“You’re not getting in trouble for this, are you?” Jim asked, concerned for his friend and, realising what it all meant, immensely grateful.

“Not if you don’t do anything stupid,” Bones replied, his tone mildly teasing, and Jim was thankful for that, too. “If you promise me you talk to me regularly. You tell me if you’re feeling any worse. And you grow a pair and open your mouth before it can get that far, understood?”

“Yeah,” Jim said. “Yes. Understood.”

“Good. Then… how about we finish this chess match?”

Somehow, Jim really didn’t want to. Chess reminded him too much of Spock, of all the evenings spent in his company. The thought of never having that again felt like he lost a limb, and it would keep hurting him for a long time, he was sure.

“How about a game of cards instead?” he asked and was glad to see Bones nod, a small smile on his lips that soon turned into one of his trade-mark, sarcastic smirks.

“Sure, buddy. Whatever makes you happy.”  

  
  
  


 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up: I'm not sure how frequently I'll post the next few weeks. My beta-reader has a bit more time now, but I've been having a really, really tough week. My 2.5 year old cat, Lino, is severely ill at the moment. I've been to the vet almost daily, spend hundreds of euros on diagnostics already. It might be FIP (an always lethal illness), or Lymphoma... or a miracle happens, and it's really just some kind of very weird infection that nobody can think of. He's been weak and lost a lot of weight very quickly. We had a biopsy done, and I expect the results Tuesday-ish. If it's lymphoma, I'm gonna try chemo. If not, then... Well. Not much left. 
> 
> So I'm asking for your patience and understanding if the next chapter comes a little late. Also, please keep your fingers crossed for Lino. He's such an amazing little fellow. He survived a really rough accident as a kitten (lost a leg and his tail, but recovered so nicely). It would be horrible to lose him so young. (Also, if I do go for chemo, I will have to set up a fundraiser. I don't want to post the link here, but if you are interested in Lino's progress or willing to donate, should the need arise, you can visit my tumblr. I'm leandraholmes there, and I tag these things "personal") 
> 
> Anyway, on to the chapter. I'm rather proud of it, so I'd really like to know what you thought. (And, no spoilers, the thing that's missing in this chapter will definitely be there again in the next).

Nyota had always prided herself in being a good observer and of having a sense of people’s emotions and moods. She had always known when it was best to avoid her former roommate because she was getting in one of those flirty, chatty moods that would keep Nyota from studying, or worse, leave her with a horrible migraine due to Orion pheromones. She had been able to anticipate early on which of her instructors would welcome a critical mind, and which prefered students who just listened and absorbed (she had always disliked the latter, but knew how to deal with them anyway). She knew when Lieutenant Alden would need a particularly strong cup of coffee during the communications staff meetings, and she could tell when Ensign Sil needed some cheering up or encouragement because she doubted herself.

Overall, Nyota Uhura was an exceptional people reader. The trouble was just that, lately, her skills seemed to fall short when it came to her own boyfriend.

But something _was_ wrong with Spock. Something that made the atmosphere tense on the bridge and outright awkward between them, in private. Something he was diligently hiding behind small sweet gestures and signs of his affection toward her. That he had hardly gone beyond the level of intimacy between siblings or close friends lately was one of the biggest proverbial question marks between them.

She had tried to bring it up with him several times over the past weeks, but either something real came up or he found a way to evade the questions. But, despite knowing something _must_ definitely be wrong, something else had kept her from pressing on too aggressively. She told herself she didn’t want to pressure him and was respecting his emotions (or lack thereof), but that was hardly the only, or the complete, reason. The bottom line was that she was scared. After all her careful consideration, her imaginary explanations for his behaviour, she knew that somewhere deep in the centre of her belly, she had that constant, constricting knot of fear that would not be resolved until she finally and completely addressed the issue. Just the fact that it might make things worse for her relationship had kept her from it for so long.

“Spock? I need to talk to you,” she said quietly just as he got up from his station when alpha shift had ended.

Spock raised an eyebrow and inclined his head. “Do you require my assistance with something?”

It nearly made her groan out in frustration. “No, it’s a private matter. But it _is_ important. Will you please come to my quarters?”

An expression that she could only interpret as anxious ghosted over Spock’s features, and that feeling in the pit of her stomach spread violently to her chest.

“I had intended to finish my study on--”

“No, Spock. No studies, no reports. Not tonight,” she interrupted him, her tone still even and low enough that nobody else in the vicinity could overhear her, but with all the emphasis she could muster. “I _need_ to talk to you.”

 _Or else I’m going to lose my mind_ , she thought, wishing she could convey her feelings to him and wishing he’d sympathise. Wishing she didn’t have to feel so weak.

Spock gave her a slow nod then. “I shall come to your quarters in twenty minutes.”

It was probably better than him following her right away. She didn’t know if she could have kept herself from saying anything on the way, or else feeling extremely awkward due to complete silence.

Those twenty minutes, however, were torture. Nyota busied herself with freshening up, changing into more comfortable clothes, before she went and prepared a pot of Rooibos tea. While it steeped, she checked a few of her personal messages. Her cousin had sent her pictures of his new baby, which, under other circumstances, she would have been delighted about, but she had neither the time nor was she in the right mind to reply to it, now.

Finally, at precisely eighteen-twenty, her door buzzed and she let Spock in, trying to ignore the way her heart was thumping in her chest.

“Come in, Spock, sit down. Would you like some tea?” God, this felt awkward.

Spock sat at the table and, before she could, went to pour them a cup. And that was sweet. Caring and considerate as he’d always been, still was. And she hoped, desperately hoped, that this was a sign that not all was lost between them, tiny as this detail was.

“What is it you wished to discuss with me, Nyota?” he asked. Strangely, his voice seemed a little… insecure.

She took a deep breath and swallowed down the lump of anxiety in her throat. “Spock, something is wrong with… with us.” She didn’t want to say ‘with you’ despite mostly feeling that way. “Things haven’t been normal between us for a long time now, and I know you always had a good explanation for it, but… I just feel that there’s something really, really wrong, and I need to know what it is.”

She expected another round of explanations of how busy he had been, how important the many discoveries they had made were, or some other seemingly logical reason for this distance between them. But instead, Spock averted his eyes.

“I… have no answer.”

Nyota’s first instinct was to feel sympathy for him - he sounded and looked so helpless - but the feeling of frustration and fear in her rose, and turned into an anger that she could not quite fully contain.

“But I _need_ an answer. I need to know what is going on with us. Because the way things have been going… Spock, this is hardly a relationship anymore. We barely see each other. You’re always busy, and if it was just that I could understand it, but it’s not. Even when you _have_ time, or can’t find a good enough excuse,” she couldn’t help adding, not free from resentment, “you’re always so distant. Spock, we haven’t had sex in _months_ , and I don’t know why. I can’t understand why you suddenly don’t… don’t desire me anymore. We used to be all over each other, and now it’s like I’m not even here! Or like I’m some kind of burden to you, something that you have to put up with!”

“You’re _not_ a burden,” he said quickly, a hint of something in his eyes - panic or guilt, Nyota wasn’t sure. It spurred some hope in her, but not nearly enough.

“Then _why_ are things like this?”

“I cannot explain.” He had his eyes averted again, looking at the floor.

“Then try.”

“Nyota, please. I cannot.” And yes, that was definitely panic. Or shame even, and Nyota racked her brain for the reason.

“Is this a Vulcan thing?” she asked carefully, noticing the moment the words had left her that it sounded awfully trite. “I mean, does it have anything to do with any phenomenon specific to your biology or culture?” Of course, she knew about Pon Farr already, but this whole thing was definitely quite the opposite of what she thought the Vulcan mating time would be like.

“No,” he just replied, still with that quiet, even intimidated tone.

“Then what is it, Spock? Tell me, please! Why have you been so… You’re not even just distant with me lately. It’s with Jim, too. It’s like you’ve shut yourself off--” Suddenly, a thought came to her that made the breath catch in her throat. “Are you thinking about Kolinahr??”

Spock looked back up again, and there was way too much emotion in his brown eyes to even imagine he could purge all of that and commit himself to pure logic. To think that so much of what made Spock _Spock_ could be lost...

“No, I have not considered it for many years. It is not a path I can follow.” He almost sounded like he regretted it.

“Then _what_ is it?!” she burst out loudly, desperate now and her voice breaking. “Just tell me why you won’t touch me. Why you don’t want me! Dammit Spock, four and a half years!! We’ve been together for four and a half years. You owe me the _truth_!”

Spock looked wrecked now, caught off guard, his gaze drifting between various spots on the surface of the table. And he still didn’t reply.

“Do you still want me? Do you still _love_ me?” She asked, tears burning in her eyes, fear and anger sizzling on her skin and in her chest.

“I… do hold affection for you,” he started at last, softly and still not looking at her. “For many years, you have been a constant in my life, have provided me with support and care when needed and made me wish to bestow the same upon you. That has not changed.”

It should placate her, but… it wasn’t enough. Something was still off and she needed to understand what it was, what it _meant_.

“Support and care isn’t everything that makes a relationship, Spock,” she said, her voice still heavy with unshed tears. “And it’s not just _sex_ either. It’s intimacy. Emotional _and_ physical. And you’ve withdrawn yourself from both. And I _need_ to know why. I need to understand why what is important to me somehow stopped being important to you. Why you stopped feeling that way about me.”

“I am sorry, Nyota,” he said, still not looking at her.

“That’s not enough. That’s not a reason. Was it something I have done? Something you learned about me that--”

“No. You have done nothing wrong.”

“Then what _is_ it?” she shouted, finally, tired of feeling like a broken record, feeling powerless and exhausted from asking the same question over and over again and not being any the wiser. “Do you have feelings for somebody else?”

It hadn’t even been a serious consideration. She hadn’t thought about this before, but the second the question was out, Spock looked back up, eyes widening involuntarily for a fraction of a second. Nyota knew she had hit bull’s eye.

She nodded slowly, swallowing, trying to inhale deeply through her nose to force down the trembling, clenching feeling in her chest that threatened to overwhelm her. Holding her breath until, with great effort, the whispered question came over her lips. “Who?”

Spock didn’t answer and looked away again.

“Who, Spock? Tell me!”

“It does not matter who. It is of no consequence.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, incredulous. She could see it was hard for him to reply, but she was beyond sympathy at this point.

“It means that the… affections I experience for another will neither be pursued by me nor likely returned.”

“Oh, so that makes it better,” she huffed out, not believing what she was hearing. “So because you think that whoever you’ve fallen in love with is not going to reciprocate, you’ve decided to keep me? The easy choice?”

“Nyota, no, I…” Spock let out a barely audible breath and finally looked at her again, pleadingly. “I had merely hoped the sentiment would cease, and I had not wanted to sacrifice that which we have accomplished and built together.”

It sounded hardly better, hardly managed to soothe the gut-wrenching feeling of betrayal and hurt in her midst. “Yes, that seems very… logical.”

She knew he had caught the insult, and now there was an expression of hurt on his features, too. _Good_ , she thought, savagely.

“It was. As you stated correctly, we have been together for over four and a half years. I did not think it prudent to forsake our partnership for an infatuation that in itself bore no basis in logic or even a realistic chance to--”

“That’s exactly what I mean, Spock! Don’t you understand that?” she cried, desperate and so, so hurt. “Having feelings for somebody else can happen, but the reason to dismiss them and stay with your partner shouldn’t be because they’re not returned. It should be because you still love your partner and what you built with them _more_. Why don’t you get that? Why don’t you understand that telling me this now means you’ve been lying to me this whole time?!”

“I have not been lying to you. I have never pretended, nor told you I share affections for you that I did not feel. Nyota, you must believe me.”

“But you omitted half of the truth, Spock. And you did it for all the wrong reasons. That’s as good as lying in my book.” Now, tears had indeed started spilling from her eyes. She could not hold them back any longer, and she was torn between being angry at herself for it, relieved to finally let them out, and grimly satisfied to make Spock see what he had done to her. “And all that stuff about a mind meld being too intense, and a bond accidentally forming? Those were lies too! You wanted to keep from me whatever you were feeling. Am I right?”

Spock still looked down. “I am sorry,” he said very quietly.

“God. How could you? How could you do that to me? To us??”

“It was not my intention to deceive you,” he replied, more resigned than defensive, his brow twitching with obvious regret. “I believe that I have been deceiving myself.”

So that proved it, didn’t it? Those feelings of his, for whomever, they were both real and long ongoing. It felt like something had stabbed her in the chest. “Then stop deceiving us both and tell me who it is. Tell me the whole truth. It’s the  _least_ I deserve.”

Part of her wondered whether she even should have pressed on, what benefit she’d reach from knowing who it was Spock had feelings for, and how it had all started. Maybe she was better off not knowing, because it would not make a difference. This, despite all her hopes for a different outcome, was it. The end of their relationship. And it only fully hit her now, the full weight of it threatening to crush her. She had loved Spock for so long. Still did. Still would for a long time, even despite the anger and resentment she felt right now.

“It’s… Jim.” Spock said, his own voice barely above a whisper.

She was not surprised, not in the slightest. And the fact that, upon knowing he did have feelings for somebody else, she had not speculated on this option was probably only due to the fact that she had been too overwhelmed, too shocked and hurt to bring up the conclusion herself.

She let out a soft laugh, though nothing about this was funny. “Okay.”

They both were quiet for a long while. Nyota, at least, had no idea what to say. Part of her wanted to yell and scream at Spock, the other only wanted to curl up in a corner and cry. Words would not leave her, because what could she ever say after this?

“Nyota?” Spock then asked carefully. “Please tell me what I can do.”

“Oh there is _nothing_ you can do, Spock,” she said bitterly, surprised at her own strength. “We are _done_.”

“Nyota, what I said was true. I do not wish to end our partner--”

“You don’t get to wish for anything right now, Spock! And you definitely don’t get to keep me as second best to Jim Kirk.” There were no tears now, just a cold and heavy feeling in her, the rage of hurt and anger somehow mulled to deep weariness. She had no energy left to deal with this now, to deal with him. “Please leave.”

Spock got up from his chair but he didn’t move towards the exit. “Nyota, I am truly sorry to have caused you pain. I wish--”

“I know,” she interrupted him, and yes, believing him was probably the worst part right now. To think he did care for her and that everything he had said somehow made sense to him, but that it was so, so wrong and so painful all the same.

“But I can’t even see you right now, and I can’t talk to you. _Go_.”

She only saw him nod from the corner of her eye and didn’t look as he finally made his way to the door. When it closed again behind him, Nyota let out a long, deep and shaking breath. Her hands still clenched uselessly by her sides.

The cups of tea stood on the table, untouched.

  
  
  


 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your comments on the last chapter, and thank you even more for your kind words regarding my cat. We have the almost certain diagnosis now that Lino has, indeed, FIP. I'm devastated but intend to do anything I can to give him as much time as possible.  
> Please go and have a look at my tumblr for more info on him and his situation. <https://leandraholmes.tumblr.com/tagged/my-kitties>
> 
> Now on to the next chapter. My beta-reader did a great job again and managed to edit it last night. I hope you enjoy the chapter.

It probably wasn’t a party until Scotty drunkenly sung a Scottish folk song to the crowd - preferably standing on a table, and even more preferably getting at least two of his crewmates, in this instance Chekov and Hendorff, to sing along. Though singing probably wasn’t the right word for the cacophony they were causing. They bellowed the lines of ‘The Bonnie Banks of Loch Lomond’ so incredibly out of tune that Jim didn’t know whether he wanted to cover his ears and hide, film the whole thing, or just laugh until he felt tears in his eyes. It was a combination of the last two that had him wiping the corner of his left eye as he put his communicator back in his pocket when the song finally ended.

“Tha’ was amazing, lads!” Scotty shouted over the general noise of the crowd. “Now we do ‘Flower of Scotland’.” There was some groaning and laughter when Scotty began to sing, but Hendorff excused already himself and Chekov was being offered a drink, so - luckily - the performance didn’t continue.

Jim turned back to his own drink at the bar, a smile on his face. This evening had turned from a small get-together to celebrate Chekov’s twenty-second birthday to a full-blown party, and it was really fun. Possibly the most fun Jim had had in months, and he was somewhat glad that Spock wasn’t here. Being in his presence for anything other than professional business still felt like too hard a thing to do. But no, Jim was not going to think about that. Not tonight. Tonight, he was just going to enjoy himself.

He took another sip of his drink - a fruity cocktail that Keenser had mixed which tasted surprisingly delicious. Jim had followed Bones’ advice and tried to steer clear of alcohol for a while. To his relief, it hadn’t been too hard. There had been a few evenings spent in the solitude of his own quarters when he had been tempted, but if he’d given in then it would have been precisely the type of drinking that was dangerous to indulge in. To drown one’s sorrows in hard liquor, or at least to superficially forget about them for a while. But those sorrows always returned full force the next morning; that was a fact Jim had learned the hard way.

He still didn’t really know or understand how it had come this far. That he had found himself so deep down a pit of, well, the proverbial despair pretty much covered it. Jim hadn’t felt like that for many, many years, and a part of himself still hated himself for having been so weak.

But Bones had given him some good advice after weaselling that bit of information out of him: that Jim should try and think of himself as he’d think of others who were in a similar place. And after a while, that had started to work.

Maybe the Andorian basil had done its part, too. Though Jim still found it a bit hard to believe that an alien herb should be able to ease the guilt of having lost two officers and heal a broken heart. The former had gotten better, but the latter? Jim still felt as strongly about Spock as he had before. He still often thought about Spock last thing before he fell asleep, and he woke up with an aching feeling of longing in his chest. And he still found it hard to look at Spock on the bridge, interact with him when their professional duties required it, and know that the friendship that had bloomed so beautifully over the past few years was now a thing of the past.

Nevertheless, these thoughts and feelings had become routine, and Jim wouldn’t be Jim if he didn’t learn to adapt and to get used to things, no matter how depressing they were. After all, he had survived much worse than a broken heart and at a much younger age - though he also caught himself thinking that if he, with his adult mind, could swap with kid-him, he’d take frequent shouting and regular beatings over this any day. Sadly, life didn’t work like that, and you didn’t get to pick the tragedies that were easiest to deal with.

Little by little, Jim was doing better. Not great, but better than after the tragedy on that planet. It was just that ‘better’ still didn’t feel as good as it should. But he’d be damned if he didn’t try to get there. He just had to figure out how, little by little.

“Those bloody philistines.”

Scotty drew Jim’s attention as he moved closer with a glass of an amber-coloured liquid that was most likely Scotch. He sat down next to Jim and leaned against the bar a bit heavily, swaying slightly. “It’s one of the greatest songs in Scottish history. About one of the greatest men in Scottish history: Robert the Bruce. He defeated the English and… sent them _homeward tae think again_!” He sang the last bit loudly, and Jim got the idea that it must have been a line from the song.

He gave Scotty an indulgent smile and tried not to roll his eyes. “Yeah, uh… interesting. Bet it would have been an excellent performance,” he said, clapping Scotty on the shoulder.

The other man swayed more drastically under the rather mild hit and had to grasp the edge of the counter in order to avoid sliding from the stool, and Jim had to laugh again, shaking his head in amusement.

“Och, I’m properly sloshed already.” Scotty blinked and then shook his head and upper body, looking down into his glass before shrugging and taking another sip.

“I wouldn’t have guessed,” Jim grinned. Usually, Scotty had a rather high tolerance for alcohol, but seeing that he and Chekov had basically drunk themselves through half the bar already, it wasn’t that surprising.

Scotty’s eyes travelled to the purple-ish drink in Jim’s glass, and he frowned. “What are you having, captain?”

“Uh, I don’t even know. Keenser made it. It’s good.”

“Keenser? Where’s the wee shit anyway?” Scotty asked and looked around. Jim privately thought that - seeing as Keenser only reached to the belly button of most other crew members, it would be a bit difficult to spot him over the heads of everyone else.

“No idea. Maybe he didn’t like the singing?”

“Och, if ye can sing that much better, let’s hear it then!”

Jim was incapable of taking Scotty’s affronted tone seriously. “Nah, sorry. Not drunk enough for that. Another time maybe.”

“Keenser, get that man another drink,” Scotty said to the crowd behind him, but the little engineering officer was still nowhere in sight.

“You know what, Mister Scott?” Jim started as he got up from his barstool and stepped around the counter. “I think you should have a different drink. A speciality, prepared for you and you alone by yours truly.”

Scotty grinned in anticipation as Jim looked for the right bottles and jugs. And wasn’t that fun, too? Instead of just pressing a button on the replicator, actually mixing cocktails from scratch.

“Here, have a….” He quickly tried to come up with a name for the mix of three fruit juices and grenadine as he put it on the bar in front of Scotty. “An Iowan Sunrise. Enjoy.”

When Scotty took a first careful sip, his eyes lit up and he nodded in appreciation. Upon the second sip, however, a small frown formed on his face, and the third had him look at Jim quizzically. “Is there even any alcohol in this?”

“Of course!” Jim lied, giving his chief engineer his most innocent smile.

Scotty still looked at him, eyes narrowed and mouth pursed in a highly sceptical grimace, but then something seemed to catch his eye and he turned his head. “Keenser! My wee little mate!” he exclaimed jubilantly, and, quicker than Keenser could have reacted, laid both hands on the man’s rather big head and kissed him on top of it noisily. “Come, we’ll show these spoil-sports what a real party is. Do you know ‘Flower of Scotland’ by any chance?”

Keenser just gave a low grunt as he let himself be led towards the centre of the room, and Jim was by himself again. There were a couple of young ensigns at the other end of the bar who’d surely raise no objections to him joining them, but Jim didn’t want to intrude.

As his gaze wandered through the crowd, he saw Bones sit at a table with M’Benga and two of their nurses, but that was alright. He’d spent a lot more time than usual with Bones lately anyway. And he really wasn’t in the mood for another subtle-but-not-so-subtle attempt at a therapy session. Sulu and Uhura were in one corner, obviously deep in conversation, and while he admired both of them, talking to Uhura would be… awkward didn’t even begin to cover it in this context.

That was another thing he regretted. They had never been close friends, but over the years they had certainly developed some mutual respect and admiration. Lately, however, he often found himself wishing he didn’t have to see her on the bridge every day and be reminded of the fact that she was the one who got to spent her nights with Spock. And wasn’t he a dick for thinking that?

As much as he didn’t want to think _that_ either, he had also caught himself fantasising about _both_ of them leaving. It would make things a lot easier, and more productive. The first trouble with that was that it made Jim an even bigger dick for considering the idea, and the second one was that the thought of having someone else as his first officer seemed… unthinkable. Who would he even pick? Someone who knew him well enough to rein him in when he was being too rash but complete him with additional info and ideas when he was right. In short: who could put up with him, long-term, in the same way Spock had always done?

But the contemplation was futile, anyway. Spock had not requested a transfer, and Jim would not make him leave. He couldn’t do that to Spock. _Or_ to Uhura.

So the only other option was to continue to deal with it and hope that, somehow, sometime, it would be okay. That his feelings would just wither after having been unanswered for so long, and that maybe, he and Spock could learn to be friends again. The problem with that was: Jim still didn’t know what Spock thought of him, how he felt about him. Had he really sensed Jim’s emotions that night, when Jim had kissed him? And was he appalled by them? Or was it as Bones had said, and Spock just tried to distance himself from Jim to give him room to get over him? Jim wished he knew, but he could hardly go and ask Spock about it, could he? Awkwardness aside, if the explanation was the former then Jim didn’t know if he could deal with that. It would be adding insult to injury.

Jim finished his cocktail and contemplated getting another one. Seeing as he had no present company, however, it would go against the rule Bones had suggested and that Jim, after grudgingly agreeing to it, had set for himself. He wouldn’t drink alone, at least not while he was still sometimes (all right, often) feeling this way. The only alternative was to find someone to drink with, but everywhere he looked, people seemed clustered in small groups or pairs. And while he was sure none of them would deny him company, he didn’t want to intrude.

He let out a long breath and headed for the exit, giving his crew mates a few smiles and nods on the way out when they acknowledged him.

The noise inside the rec room was drowned out as soon as the doors swished closed behind him, and Jim turned into the corridor… only to run straight into his first officer. It was only thanks to his and Spock’s good reflexes that they did not full-on collide with each other.

“Sorry, didn’t see you coming,” he apologised quickly, letting out a small, self-amused chuckle. At the same time, his heart did a funny and not all too pleasant little jump inside his chest.

“No matter, captain. There was no harm done.”

They both stood, still facing each other, and Jim had time to think if he wanted to start a conversation, and how. Why did things need to feel so awkward between them?

“You are leaving already?” It was Spock who broke the silence first, and Jim was grateful for it.

He let out another long breath, fighting against that slightly tight feeling in his chest, and put on smile. “Still got a few reports to revise,” he said.

“I hope the ones I submitted for your revision are to your satisfaction,” Spock said, and Jim had to genuinely chuckle at that.

“Don’t worry, Spock. I read yours already, and they were flawless as usual.”

“I did not worry.” And God, was that a subtle hint at Vulcan humour again? Reminding Jim that Vulcans didn’t worry and fret, and teasing him with how illogically human that assumption was? Or was that just wishful thinking on Jim’s part? Spock’s features remained impassive, no quirk of the lip or slightly raised eyebrow. Jim used to be able to read him so much better.

“Anyway, you’re going in, right?” he asked, forcing himself not to look at Spock’s lips or into his eyes too much, just seeing the general movement of a nod. “Have fun then. Or… whatever the Vulcan equivalent is, I guess. I better get going.”

Without waiting for another word, he barely registered another polite nod as he turned and continued to the turbo lift, once more hating the fact that things were not as easy they used to be.

Maybe it was him, he thought rather suddenly as he entered his own quarters and toed off his boots. Maybe he was projecting this awkwardness, and Spock only reacted accordingly. It could all be up to Jim to try and make this friendship work again, to initiate conversations outside of their professional duty. But that option left him with another dilemma, or rather two: first, he barely felt he had the energy left for it, having to push down, ignore and wish away his unrequited feelings for Spock all the fucking time; and second, he wondered why, if the friendship meant anything to Spock, _he_ wasn’t trying to do anything to save it.

The latter thought brought a wave of hurt and disappointment with it, and Jim sighed as he changed from his uniform into a comfortable t-shirt. He sat on his bed, deciding to get to work there instead of at his desk. The PADD was already lying on the nightstand, and he only had to sort through around thirty new messages.

One of them usually wouldn’t have piqued his interest, but for some reason the one from _Starfleet Command, HR_ with the subject line ‘Update: open positions - 2262.1/.2’ caught his eye. He had a look, more out of sheer curiosity, but also wanting to procrastinate having to read Scotty’s engineering report.

_Vice Admiral, Yorktown Starbase_

_Reporting to Commodore Fairuza Paris_

Only skimming the rest of the job description, Jim already wanted to shrug it off. The minimum requirements _did_ fit his résumé, but leaving the Enterprise to be stationed on a starbase was not something that had ever occurred to him before. And it shouldn’t. This was his home, after all, his family, he told himself with conviction.

Later that night, however, with all messages answered and the lights turned off, the thought didn’t quite leave him, and he wondered what it would be like. To be able to go to parks, museums, bars and cinemas, to feel (even if artificial) wind and (also artificially amplified and controlled) sunlight on his face. To have an apartment like back in San Francisco, and a whole city of people to get to know properly or interact with only fleetingly, whatever suited him best. To not have to see Spock’s face every day, and deal with the emotions it brought him.

Was that really what was missing in his life right now? This whole dilemma with Spock just a symptom of a much bigger, underlying problem?

Jim laid awake for at least another hour, not finding an answer to his question.

  
  
  
  


 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter, right on time. And there'll be - mild spoiler - members of a my favourite Star Trek alien race in this one ;-)
> 
> I do hope you enjoy the chapter. 
> 
> Another small note: I made Chekov a lieutenant. He used to be an ensign, but by now I'd expect him to have been promoted. 
> 
> As for my cat Lino, he's currently doing okay. I got the meds from Czechia on Friday and have just given him the second dose (unfortunately, the syringe squirted too much and he spit half of it out, which is like 10-15 euros down the drain). Anyway, for more info, in case you're interested, visit my tumblr: https://leandraholmes.tumblr.com/tagged/my-kitties
> 
> And thank you all so much for you kind, supportive words! <3

After that fiasco with the Teenaxi a week ago, Jim was glad that their route didn’t land them in another diplomatic mission. Instead, they had found an interstellar asteroid of gigantic proportions. Its momentum was slow, barely noticeable through the viewscreen, and, while the scanners were working to gather more info, Jim wondered how long it had been there, where it had come from and where it would eventually end up. In any case, it was an impressive sight, particularly with the rock structures that rose up from the surface like stalagmites.

“Wow, how big is that thing?” Jim wondered, and Spock, as always, promptly provided.

“Its volume is two-point-three-seven-four billion square kilometres, captain.”

“Wow. Makes Ceres look like a pebble in comparison, huh?” he asked, turning his gaze from the screen to Spock who briefly raised an eyebrow.

“A rather big pebble. This object has five-point-six-three-eight times the volume of Ceres”

Even after nearly five years, it still amazed Jim how quickly Spock could calculate such large numbers.

“Any results on what it’s comprised of?”

Spock turned towards his own screen again. “Dolomite and siderite. And… it appears there is Dilithium inside the structure as well.”

An audible, excited murmur went through the bridge, and Jim couldn’t help the grin that spread on his lips. If they had, indeed, found a source for dilithium this could be a very fruitful discovery for the Federation. After all, they were in uncharted territory, and nobody had yet laid a claim on the area.

“Mister Sulu, get us closer. We’re sending down a probe. Mister Spock, arrange for--”

But Jim did not get to finish his sentence. Suddenly, a crackling bang resounded around them, and the ship shook and trembled. Then, another one, and a third.

“Shields up! Red alert!” Jim shouted as the only conclusion he could draw from what was going on around them formed in his mind. “Who’s attacking us?”

Another blast hit them, and this time it must have been close to the bridge because Jim felt everything vibrate underneath and around him.

“I’m not finding any enemy ship, keptin, but I’m detecting ze direction of origin.”

“Fire phasers. Uhura, hail them at all frequencies.”

“Yes captain,” Uhura said just as the first volley of phaser fire hit the invisible target. Jim was still trying to make sense of it, but he had no time to wonder who or what firstly had cloaking technology and secondly the motivation to attack them.

Another hit shook the ship harder than before, and Jim could only grasp the armrest of his chair with one hand while his other opened a channel to his chief engineer. “Damage report, Mister Scott.”

“Nothing I cannae fix yet, captain.”

“Shields are dropping to thirty per cent,” Sulu said, just a second later.

“Nobody’s responding, captain.”

If this continued, things would really start to look dire. Jim had to think fast.

In the next moment, however, as their phasers hit the unknown target once more, something flickered in the distance, and then, another two seconds or so later, the enemy ship became visible. It was a Klingon bird of prey. Jim instinctively held his breath.

“Uhura, hail them again. Try it directly in Klingon this time. Say we’re not here to fight.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Spock, can you get a reading on their shield integrity?”

“Thirty-two per cent, captain. Their cloaking device seems to be permanently damaged, and they have a hull-breach. Though I cannot yet get a reading on their other systems.”

Another blast of phasers was fired at them. Jim had to hold himself steady as to not fall out of his chair as the Enterprise jolted backwards. “What about ours?”

“Front shields are at seventeen per cent,” Sulu replied. This was not looking good.

Then, finally, Uhura’s words brought relief. “They’re responding. A General Kogoz wants to speak to you.”

“On screen,” Jim said, took a deep breath and forced himself to appear calm as the transmission flickered to life.

Kogoz was - as Klingons often were - an angry looking man, a bushy mane of hair and sharp teeth giving him a feral look. Jim forced himself to be polite.

“Thank you for agreeing to negotiate with us, general Kogoz.”

“The only thing I’ll be negotiating is your obliteration,” the Klingon spat back. If things weren’t as threatening as they were, Jim would have found it hard to resist the urge to roll his eyes.

“May I inq--”

“That asteroid is ours!” Kogoz bellowed. “We discovered it weeks ago and will not allow a filthy Federation vessel stealing what rightfully belongs to the Klingon Empire!”

“General, we were not aware that you had laid claim on the asteroid. We were merely exploring the area. So I ask you to lower your weapons and let us--”

“And why should we do that?” Kogoz asked, his tone calmer but no less threatening. “So you can come back with more Federation vessels?”

Jim wanted to groan in frustration. It was so Klingon to expect other races to only be up to confrontation and not even consider the possibility that they’d simply back off and let the Klingons have that stupid rock.

Jim thought hard for a second, wondering if a strategy of explanation and assurances would work. He somehow doubted it.

“No, you should stand down, because otherwise, you leave us no choice than to destroy you,” he said calmly, as if on a whim.

He could see Spock’s gaze on him from the corner of his eye as his first officer had come closer. They both, and probably everyone else on the bridge, knew it was just a bluff. But Kogoz could only see Jim on the screen, and Jim was giving him his best poker face.

“We have located your weapons array and life support, and are ready to fire. So I ask you, general Kogoz, will you stand down?” His tone betrayed none of the anxiety he felt, voice firm and determined, and his gaze was fixed unfalteringly on the Klingon’s face.

There was rage visible on the Klingon’s features, the heavy, ridged brow furrowed and his mouth pulled into a contemptuous sneer. Then, it opened, revealing the general’s sharp teeth before he released a deep, scornful laugh.

“ _You_ obliterate _us_ , a Klingon bird of prey?” He laughed again. “With your puny Federation ship, you stand no chance against the glory of the Empire!”

Jim finally turned and nodded towards Spock, who immediately followed his prompt and leaned in closer.

“How about you do the math for them?” He spoke in a lower voice, but he knew Kogoz could hear every word. He also knew that Spock immediately understood the strategy Jim had laid out.

“I am not sure it would be wise to taunt the Klingons, captain,” Spock replied in an equally low voice. “It could be interpreted as a further provocation.” And if that wasn’t just cunning - Jim could have almost grinned.

He shrugged faintly, continuing the theatrics for their Klingon audience. “We’re not taunting them. You’re just giving them the facts. It’s logical, isn’t it?”

Spock inclined his head a fraction before he gave Jim a minuscule nod. “I believe it is, captain.”

Then he took one step closer towards the viewscreen and addressed the Klingon commanding officer. “General Kogoz, I believe you are aware that your own shields are functioning at only thirty-two per cent of their full capacity. You have multiple hull breaches and substantial damage to your ship’s engines that, should we release the photon torpedoes currently locked onto target, would suffer critical malfunction and render your ship incapacitated. Furthermore--”

“Then we will fight to the last man and take you down with us!” Kogoz raged at them, but Spock did not allow that to make him seem perturbed.

“Furthermore, should you decide to engage in battle, the critical damage we would cause would only allow you to fire at us for three-point-four seconds, which, given the fact that our own shields are functioning at seventy-eight per cent could only cause moderate damage. The gain to reach from such an engagement--”

“You are lying! You and your federation, nothing but lies and deceit. You have no honour!”

“Vulcans do not lie,” Spock said, and Jim felt himself inwardly grinning. “And if you take the time to consider the information we provide, you will arrive at the conclusion that honour and logic are very closely related; there is no honour, nor logic, to be gained from dying in a battle that does not bring any substantial harm to your enemies.”

“Enemies that you have decided to attack at first, I may add,” Jim continued.

“Your presence is an act of war against the Klingon Empire!” Kogoz spat. “We attacked to defend it from your intrusion.”

“General Kogoz,” Jim started with a more placating tone as he got up from his chair and passed Spock on the way closer to the screen. “As I said, we are here to explore, not to combat. If you see our presence as a provocation, then let us find an honourable and logical solution to our quarrel and end it here. We’re both in uncharted territory, so no breach of air space has been committed by either party. As for the asteroid, it is yours. So, we can all go our separate ways again now, or we can continue to fire at each other. But as my first officer has explained, if the latter is the case, then we _will_ have to destroy you to defend ourselves, and I personally see no honour in that for us. So I ask you again, in the hope that you will make the right decision: will you stand down?”

It was _the_ critical moment. While adrenaline was surging through Jim’s body, he made sure to appear both determined and relaxed, an encouraging, open, but also ‘don’t mess with me’ expression on his face as he held the Klingon’s gaze.

Kogoz’ face darkened, his mouth drawn into an angry frown before he finally released a frustrated grunt. “Lower weapons,” he barked at one of his officers.

“Their weapons are down, captain,” Chekov informed Jim a moment later, and Jim allowed himself to let out a slightly deeper breath. “Lower ours as well.”

“General, you have made the right decision and have proven yourself both an honourable and wise opponent,” Jim said.

“Do not speak to me about honour,” the Klingon grunted back. “Next time we meet you shall not be so lucky.”

“Then I hope there won’t be a next time,” Jim replied and then turned to look at Uhura, motioning for her to end the transmission.

“Alright, warp us out of here the second we drop shields. I don’t trust them completely,” he said towards his helmsman and then, after checking with his chief engineer that the engines were fully-functional, gave the order to drop the shields. A moment later, the deep drone of the acceleration and then the loud pang of jumping into warp resounded around him, and they were off, leaving the Klingons far behind them.

“Drop back out of warp at a safe distance. Kirk to engineering. How’s the ship looking, Mr Scott?”

“Shields are pretty battered, but other than that we’re doing fine.”

“Good. Initiate the necessary repairs and let me know the progress.”

“Aye, captain.”

“Kirk to medical.”

“McCoy here,” he heard the CMO on the other end, sounding stressed but not more than usual.

“How many injuries do we have? Any fatalities?” Jim held his breath.

“None that I know of.” And released it in relief. “A few bumps and bruises. A few more serious injuries but nothing life-threatening. Looks like we got out of that one with a black eye.”

“Yeah, looks like we did. Keep me posted,” Jim replied and took another slow, deep breath, shaking his head softly. As the adrenaline faded from his system, he felt a smile form on his lips and his gaze automatically find Spock. A few steps took him closer to his first officer, who had already returned to his place at his science station.

“Nice bluff there.”

Spock raised an eyebrow at Jim and stood. “An omission of some of the facts. The shields around cargo bay were, indeed, functioning at the percentage I provided.”

Jim had to laugh at that, seeing with delight that one corner of Spock’s mouth twitched into a very subtle smile. “Good thing the Klingons didn’t know that. We can’t have you develop a reputation for being the only Vulcan in the galaxy capable of lying.”

“Indeed, that would be unfavourable.”

There was something like a spark in him, something that filled him with an energy and pride he hadn’t felt in a long while. Something so good and warm that everything bad he had felt over Spock the past months seemed to fade into the background. Jim felt more daring now, more determined and hopeful.

“I’d invite you for a drink after our shift, but you don’t drink,” he said, still feeling that strong, deep surge of gratitude and appreciation for Spock run through him, making his heart feel light. “Lunch maybe? I guess we both deserve a break after this.”

Spock looked up at him then, and there was an odd expression in his dark eyes that Jim couldn’t read, couldn’t place at all. But then he turned his gaze back towards the screen, his fingers hovering above the panel. “Thank you, captain, but I do not require sustenance at present.”

Jim felt the smile that had lingered on his features drop, and he had to force it back in place lest someone see it. He briefly considered asking Uhura to join him just to avoid any awkwardness, or anyone thinking anything in the wrong - or rather right - direction, but he didn’t think _that_ was a good idea either.

“Alright, if anyone else is hungry, I’m going to grab a bite,” he said in the general direction of his other crew members. It was Chekov who almost jumped up and joined him on the way to the turbo lift, explaining that his breakfast had been too small today, after oversleeping a little. At least it would be somewhat easy to ignore the heavy, sinking feeling in his stomach in the presence of the young and almost always cheerful lieutenant.

What exactly had he done to Spock that he didn’t want anything to do with him beyond their work? Was this _still_ about that kiss? Would Spock never forgive him that? Did he even care about Jim as a person at all? Or was he constantly forcing himself to remain polite to at least maintain their constructive working relationship? Jim could hardly imagine it, finding all the small clues that Spock wasn’t merely being constructive and polite. But then again, if he still _did_ feel some semblance of friendship for Jim, why was Spock keeping him at such a distance?

It was these thoughts that had him pick at his food and occupied his mind later, back on the bridge. So much so that he was grateful for some additional work on his PADD. The job offer was still there in his inbox, and Jim once more wondered what that would be like. To get away from all of this and work with people he only had a professional relationship with, and keep the personal ones to his free time. It could be easier, a lot easier.

When he clicked ‘send’ after having filled out his application later that evening, he felt a second’s worth of enthusiasm and relief. Then, his determination faltered suddenly, leaving him with an odd emptiness. If he got that job - and that was a big if, seeing as he only had a few years of experience under his belt and was younger than most Starfleet captains - what would his crew say? What would _Bones_ say? It was something he probably should have considered before, but all he had really thought about was Spock.

He didn’t know what to think and feel anymore, what to hope for or what to change, but what he knew was that things, as they were right now, were not enough for him. And that wasn’t likely to change.

  
  
  


 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this chapter is a little late. What with Easter and all, my beta reader was busy cooking for her family and having them over. But she managed to edit the chapter yesterday/last night :-)  
> I hope you all had a great Easter and a relaxing long weekend. And I hope you enjoy the next chapter.

Nyota took a deep breath and smoothed down her uniform, standing straight. Chin lifted to fight the odd, still somewhat heavy feeling in her stomach, she buzzed the doorbell. She was going to do this before it ate at her any further, and before their two-week shore leave started - when she’d most likely have no chance to do so.

The door was opened and she looked into Spock’s face, an ever so subtle hint of surprise visible on his features.

“Nyota, what can I do for you?”

“I would like to talk to you. Can I come in?” She knew there was emotion in her tone, subtle as it was, but he had known her long enough to pick up on it, and she wondered what he made of it. She was unsure what exactly it was that she felt right now. Unease, regret, awkwardness? What she wanted to feel was confident and hopeful, and she tried to convey these emotions with a tiny smile.

“Of course. Please,” he led the way to the sofa, sitting down at one end and allowing for as much space between them as possible. It still felt a little too close for comfort, but she’d make do.

“I feel we’ve left many things unresolved between us,” she started after a short moment. “We haven’t had a private conversation since the day of our breakup, and I would like to… settle things between us.” She knew it sounded very factual and emotionally distant, but right now - even almost four months after their breakup - this approach felt easier. And it was probably easier for Spock as well.

“I, too, feel regret over the way our relationship ended,” Spock said, more emotion in his words and tone than she would have expected. It sent a rush of sympathy through her chest. And with it, regret too. “Through my meditation on the subject, I have come to the realisation that I have been untrue to myself and to you. I attempted to control my emotions, not deny them, but it was the latter that I have done.” He paused. The even expression he had worn through his explanation softened as he looked at her. And God, when would she ever stop loving the warmth in his deep brown eyes?

“Nyota, I have wronged you. I was being selfish and cowardly, and I have caused you great emotional pain. For that, I am deeply sorry.”

“Oh, Spock,” she sighed, her chest constricting with emotion. In an instinct, she reached for his hand, relieved to see that he didn’t pull away and let her bring their fingers together. She projected… not quite forgiveness, but something close to it. Then she grasped his hand tightly for a short moment and let it go.

“Thank you for saying this. And I realised a few things, too.”

He looked at her, his brow ever so slightly furrowed.

“You tried to think about all of this logically. You tried to do the right thing, even if it was for all the wrong reasons. And I guess it must have been difficult for you, too.”

He nodded slowly.

“Spock, I’m still angry with you. At least, part of me is,” she said, her voice surprisingly gentle despite her own words. “And I probably will be for a long time. Being hurt like that doesn’t go away in a few weeks or even months.” She let out a small, mirthless chuckle. “There’s an old Earth saying that it takes half as long to get over someone as you spent having loved the person. I sure hope it’s going to be shorter than that because it would be--”

“Two years, three months and eighteen days,” he provided promptly, and Nyota felt an odd sense of being both touched and annoyed. She would have simply said ‘over two years’.

“Yeah. And I can’t spend two years and nearly four months mourning after someone who…” For a short moment, a small spike or resentment surfaced in her, and she wanted to say something like ‘who doesn’t deserve it’, but that would somehow defeat the purpose of getting over him, wouldn’t it? “Who didn’t love me the way I want to be loved.”

There was a hint of guilt on his face as he averted his glance after a second or two, and that, too, proved that he had loved her, maybe still did in a way. Just not enough. Not for her.

“I do not wish for you to mourn our relationship that long,” he said gently. “If there is anything I can do to aid you, I will gladly meet your expectations. In fact, I believe that keeping my distance from you will be--”

“No, Spock, that’s not where I’m heading with this,” she interrupted him. “It’s rather the opposite.”

She could see he was confused by this, and it made her chuckle again softly, feeling a small wave of sympathy toward him. “Spock, you’ve been the most important person in my life, aside from my family, for nearly five years. I can’t and I don’t want to give you up completely. I still want you in my life, as a friend. I might not be ready to spend a lot of time with you yet, but I want us to get there in the future. Do you want that too?”

She had expected him to look relieved, to be grateful because he had told her with conviction and sincerity that he still felt affection for her. Assuming a positive reaction had been completely logical. And yet, Spock looked away, shifting in his seat to turn and face the room instead of her.

“That may not be possible.”

“What? But why?” she asked, confused and anxious.

“Because I intend to leave Starfleet and join the colony on New Vulcan.”

The words hit her like a punch in the gut, a chaos of thoughts and questions in her mind that she found difficult to sort through and prioritise. “But… you always said that with the older Spock being there you could be at two places at once. So why... ?”

“My older counterpart can provide the colony with a lifetime of experience and vast scientific knowledge. What he, in all likelihood, cannot do at his age is aiding to sustain our race.”

It should have come as no surprise. It was such a logical, such a _Spock_ thing to do, and yet, the feeling of being punched in the gut amplified, and Nyota had to take a deep breath to soothe her racing heart. She got up from her seat, unable to sit there while her mind was racing.

“But you always said that...” No, him not seeing this as a priority had been while they were still together. “Is it because of me? Do you think you’ll be making things easier if-- No.” Her breath caught in her throat with the shock of the realisation. “It’s because of _Jim_.”

The still guilty, somewhat ashamed look he briefly gave her was all the answer she needed. His lip twitched into a small, bitter, barely-there smile. “I am not as strong as you, Nyota.”

It hurt to hear it like that. To think that Spock was in more pain for not being with Jim than she was for not being with Spock, and Nyota hated how that made her feel because where did that leave things? With the fact that Spock loved Jim more than she, herself, loved Spock? Would he have felt the same way if he could not have had _her_? Would he have resigned his commission on the Enterprise if _she_ had broken up with him while he still loved her? She somehow doubted it.

It made anger and disappointment rise in her again, but she forced it down. Whatever the answer, the way he felt was not his fault. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Nyota sat back down again, elbows on her knees as she wrapped her hands behind her neck and took a deep, steadying breath.

“Are you sure you’re doing the right thing?”

“It is the most logical option,” he replied. Of _course_.

“No, I mean…” God, she hated this, hated that feeling of anger, jealousy, but above all else helplessness and a need that was still there. “Are you sure there’s no way for you two to... “ she made a waving motion with her hand, forcing down the frustrated groan that wanted to get out. “Are you sure Jim doesn’t return your feelings?”

“I am quite certain,” he replied quietly, and there was, undeniably, pain in his voice, too.

“How can you be?” she asked, wondering why the thought hadn’t occurred to her sooner, even back then when Spock had stated this assumption as a reason for him staying with her for… she didn’t even know how long, and she was not prepared to ask him _that_ question. Maybe someday.

“Spock, you and Jim have always been very close. Don’t you think there’s even the smallest chance he could feel something for you romantically as well?” She let out a short, bitter laugh, shaking her head at herself and running a hand across her forehead. “I can’t believe I’m giving _you_ relationship advice.”

“You are, indeed, a remarkable woman, Nyota. I am grateful to have your friendship despite the sorrow I’ve caused.”

“As you should be,” she said a little smugly, but the small smile on her lips as she turned her head to look at him was genuine. “But that doesn’t answer the question. If you’re leaving because you can’t bear being near Jim without being involved with him romantically, would it not be the most logical thing to try and at least find out if there’s a chance for you?”

Spock looked down but didn’t answer, and a quite sudden thought occurred to her then. She nearly gasped. “You’ve already asked him?”

“No, I have not.”

Then why didn’t he at least try, she wondered, trying to wrap her head around what could be going on in his mind. The answer came to her rather soon. “You’d feel too humiliated by his rejection. But Spock, is that logical? To forego a chance you might have, just because you’re afraid of a negative result?”

He crooked his head slightly and gave a minuscule shake. “It is not. Nothing of this entire matter has been logical so far. A fact that has further prompted me to return to my people where I can find peace in logic, and in the norms and values of my own culture.”

Nyota was quiet after that, not knowing what to say. She felt exhausted, constantly being on a tightrope between sympathy for Spock and her own hurt and anger. Maybe she would find the right words to convince him later. Or maybe she wouldn’t. It was, after all, his decision.

“Just promise me one thing, Spock.”

He looked up at her again. “Anything, Nyota.”

“That you’re not doing the right thing for the wrong reasons, again.”

Spock’s gaze went back down, somewhere in the direction of the coffee table, and his brow twitched ever so slightly as it always did when he was in deep contemplation.

“I will try.” It was all he could give her, but it had to be enough.

~*~

  
  


Shoreleave was something people always looked forward to, especially when an extended respite was awaiting them. Under normal circumstances, Jim would have been thrilled about it, too, but there was hardly anything normal about his current situation.

It had been many weeks since he had sent the application for the Vice Admiral position on Yorktown, and as those weeks had passed with nothing more than a generic confirmation of receipt, he had already shrugged it off, relieved that this was not something he would have to worry about. Two days ago, however, he had finally received a response from Commodore Paris herself, inviting him for an interview the day after they’d arrive on the station. Tomorrow.

Jim still didn’t know how he felt about this.

In the past months, things between him and Spock had remained unchanged. They still had a perfectly functioning working relationship. Nothing Spock said or did betrayed that they hardly spoke to each other outside of their duties. In fact, things between them on the bridge were so productive and fruitful that Jim often caught himself forgetting where they stood, privately. But he was reminded of that fact every time he and Spock passed each other on the hallways with no more but an acknowledging nod or brief, polite greeting. Other than that, Jim had not tried to engage with Spock anymore. Getting another rejection to an invitation for a meal or to play chess would have been too disheartening.

And so, Jim had simply left things alone and dealt with the reality that there was no _them,_ even platonically. And little by little, that reality hadn’t felt as painful anymore, having become just a dull, soft sense of regret and melancholy inside of him.

So he wasn’t so sure anymore that - should he actually get the job - he would be running from his problems; in moments when he felt most enthusiastic about the prospect, he was telling himself he was running _towards_ a fresh start instead. But then came the moments when he thought of everything and everyone he’d be leaving behind, everything the crew of the Enterprise had accomplished together. Every person that meant something to him, and that included Spock, because, even if they’d never be lovers, weren’t even friends anymore, Jim didn’t quite know if not having Spock in his life _at all_ was the better option. There was also Bones, even more than Spock, in a way - certainly in the way that Jim could count on his friendship, no matter what.

He still hadn’t had the heart to tell Bones about the job interview. They were about to meet for a drink in a while - their customary pre-birthday get-together, although neither of the two had explicitly said it. Jim contemplated what he should say, _if_ he should say something, all the way to the observation deck and after he got there, while waiting for his best friend. He had poured himself a drink already. After all, the _incident_ lay more than half a year in the past, and Jim was confident now that his having a drink or two would not lead to overindulging again. Luckily, Bones seemed to agree.

It was only when he saw his friend’s face and heard his apology for being late, that Jim decided he would not tell him anything. Not yet at least. He had no idea how the interview would go; he could still say no even if he was offered the position, and he’d tell Bones then. Maybe there wouldn’t even be anything to tell. Maybe it would take weeks for a decision to be made; after all, he had no idea how many other candidates there were. In any case, Jim would have time to explore the station, get a fresh perspective, finally get laid again. And he’d call his mom on his actual birthday and would try not to think too much of his dad, wondering if he was just missing the man he’d never known or feeling sorry for himself for not knowing how to live up to him.

No, he was going to use this time to clear his head. To decide what to do with his life and then own that decision and make the best of it.

  
  
  
  
  


 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting. I only managed to have a read-through on Saturday, and my beta-reader only got to read it last night.   
> It's a rather short chapter, but I do hope you'll enjoy it :-)
> 
> Also, a heads-up: I will have to work some more on the next chapter. Depending on when I can find the time to do so, there might be a bit of a delay again, maybe even a few days more than this time. I will try my best to be able to post on the weekend, but I can't promise anything. Chapters 17 and 18 still need some smoothing out. After that, though, it should go smoothly again. :-)

Jim had seen both plans and footage of Yorktown, but seeing it live for the first time was something he’d probably never forget. It had already looked impressive and beautiful while the Enterprise had approached the giant sphere - the snowglobe in space, as Bones had called it. Although Bones was referring to its fragility, Jim could only see the beauty of its design, the geniality of the structure, which must have demanded the best of the most talented architects and engineers in the Federation.

Stepping out of the docking bay, that impression grew even more intense, and Jim found himself at the edge of a lively, bright and beautiful city with light pavements, plants everywhere and buildings made of glass that reflected the artificially amplified starlight. And he could see the same looks of wonder in his crew as they all filtered out, excited to explore.

It was Sulu whom Jim followed with his gaze, however. When he saw his helmsman hurry to his daughter, scooping her up in his arms before meeting his husband’s embrace, Jim suddenly felt a tug in his insides that made the smile on his lips fade. There was something rather heavy in the pit of his stomach now; it wasn’t a feeling of being moved at the sight of happiness in one of his senior officer (who really deserved this, by the way), but rather a heavy pull of melancholy that almost erased all previous wonder and pleasant anticipation.

There was nobody there to pick _him_ up, nobody to wrap his arms around, to give him a sense of a well-deserved rest. Everyone he cared about was on the Enterprise with him; the same Enterprise, that, over the months, has started to feel less like a home and more like a prison.

Sure, things _had_ started to get better for Jim, but he felt that anything that had improved was only inside of him, not around. Those things, his everyday life, felt like it was holding him back, keeping him suspended somewhere in a state of stagnation. Of ups and downs, of _some_ moments of fun and validation, but on the larger scale of things... he wasn’t sure about that life anymore. Because… where was he even _going_ with all of this?

Sure, he had felt relieved at not getting a reply to his job application, but maybe that was just because he was afraid to make a change, to leap into the unknown? Somehow, that explanation didn’t satisfy him either.

Maybe the problem was himself, after all. Maybe he really just needed a break, spend some days getting lost in crowds and entertainment and relaxation. No crew to worry about, no ship, no mission. A proper holiday for once, and for the first time in almost three years.

Maybe he’d finally figure it out. But at the moment, all he could do was take it step by step.

  
  


~*~

  
  


There had been a time in his life in which he had desperately wished to not feel anything. Not frustration and anger, humiliation, shame, loneliness, or sadness. He had felt so much of it as a child that these emotions had seemed to suffocate him - unlikely as that were, but the physical sensations had been similar to it. Those emotions, seemingly alien to his own race - or the half of it that he was judged by - had plagued him throughout his childhood and adolescence, had made him feel inadequate as a Vulcan and certainly not human enough to pass as such, either.

That, however, lay long in the past. So long that - illogical as that was - it felt like a lifetime away. It had been the acceptance he had been met with that made the difference. Not so much when he had first joined Starfleet, but little by little. There had been colleagues and cadets who had regarded him with suspicion and judgment, too, but others had welcomed him into their midst without prejudice. Most prominently Captain Pike, then Nyota, for so many years a constant in his life. And, for the past four years, seven months and eighteen days, Jim. From the moment Spock had taken notice of the young cadet and despite their - what Jim had later often referred to as - bumpy start, Jim had shaped Spock’s life in ways he could not have anticipated before. Not even when his older counterpart had told him that fact precisely, Spock could have foreseen which weight those words would possess in his future; it was hardly possible to imagine something fully that one has not yet experienced.

It was the other Spock he thought of now, the face that had looked so much like his own, just many years older, but eyes that had seemed so much more… human. Serene, balanced, and at peace with all that he was and had been. Spock had often looked in the mirror after their first encounter, trying to determine what it was that had made the other Spock’s eyes so different. The only answer he could find had been time. Time and experience - a wisdom of age that he did not, and could not yet, call his own.

But it had been most fascinating and inspiring to see the person he could become one day - not in exact likeness but in a broader, more general sense. And Spock had wanted that. Had _wanted_ , for one of the first few times in his life without shame, to set upon the journey that would lead him there eventually. He had done what felt _right_ , as his counterpart had suggested, and it had worked wonderfully. Until it hadn’t. Until, at some point, that friendship he had drawn so much from - so many revelations about his own nature, about being appreciated and accepted, and likewise accepting others despite their differences - had become his weakness and his downfall.  

Spock had spent many hours in meditation to determine the exact moment and exact circumstances that had brought the shift in his feelings for Jim, but to no avail. He could determine when he had first consciously felt physical desire for Jim, if only fleetingly (two years, two months, and seventeen days ago); or when he had, after forcing himself so often not to acknowledge his desires, for the first time given in to a fantasy and actively imagined a physical, sexual contact (one year, four months, and twenty-two days ago), but these desires hardly were the essence of his feelings for Jim. They were merely a by-product, a natural biochemical process and reaction to outer stimuli.

But they were not what filled Spock’s mind with such a deep, overwhelming and overpowering yearning that it had become nearly unbearable. Those feelings, the affections he felt for Jim, the sense of belonging, of fitting together like hand and glove, of being _destined_ for each other: all _that_ must have started sometime much sooner and slowly grown until it was there, an undeniable constant. A truth he could neither refute nor undo.

Spock looked down at the PADD in his hands, against his better judgment as if he could find answers there. Find them in his own, older face with eyes that weren’t his, and he wondered what had gone differently, where and how, on the path of his and Jim’s relationship, he had strayed so essentially from the one the other Spock and _his_ captain had followed. _The friendship that would define them both_. Surely, if he had known it would have only brought Spock pain in the end, his counterpart would not have advised that Spock stay on the Enterprise. He could only conclude, therefore, that, for the older Spock and his James T. Kirk, there had only ever been a deep and meaningful friendship that had enriched their lives, both personally and professionally. It was not logical, nor even morally right, but Spock felt envy at that moment.

But the envy for a life he’d never get to lead was not all he felt then, as he stood on the promenade overlooking the vast structures of the artificial city. The news of Ambassador Spock’s death filled him with a multitude of conflicting thoughts, questions and negative emotions, so that - once more and for the first time since his childhood - he felt overwhelmed by them. As if, despite the usual, ordered patterns in which his thoughts presented themselves to him and could be selected, sorted and analysed, there was a chaos now that was nearly impossible to understand. He hardly knew what to think first, which feeling to focus on and try to make sense of.

There were sorrow and grief, present above all else, and despite the sting of loss, it was almost calming, an emotion that was expected and natural and something Spock was no stranger to.

But there was more underneath it, regret for everything he could have learned from his counterpart, all the wisdom that was lost to him now. Regret was not logical, and yet Spock felt it almost as strongly now as when he had not been fast enough to save his mother.

What was much more difficult to rifle through where all the other aspects that seemed to be consequences of the other Spock’s passing. If he had thought that maybe his decision to join New Vulcan had been premature, the premise had now changed completely. Spock could no longer be in two places at once, and while he, a much younger and less experienced version, could hardly replace the older Vulcan, the thought that it was his duty to at least attempt it caused a most unpleasant constricting feeling in his ribcage that pulsed from the right side of it through his lungs.

Was this really the pivotal moment in which his destiny had been decided? Nobody would, of course, force him to leave Starfleet, but could Spock morally justify not doing so now?

While that feeling of anxiety was still present, an almost rebellious resistance to this obligation spiked up, just as another set of thoughts surfaced that pulled Spock’s mind in a different direction altogether. Had he not _made_ that decision to spare himself more pain? To get away from the source of his discomfort and find solace in a new purpose. Why did the prospect, the even stronger justification and reason for it, now feel so _wrong?_

Spock had never known conflict in himself like that. He had faced difficult decisions before, but the process that had led him to the final result had always been, with small derivations, linear - a path filled with contemplation and logical reasoning, and, in some cases, emotional aspects as well that he had carefully examined and found to be congruent with his logical reasoning.

Now, it was as he had told Nyota: nothing seemed logical. Nothing seemed to make sense, nothing there for him to analyse and piece together. It was all just a chaos of jumbled thoughts, and not even the human ability for a gut feeling to guide him out of it.

The only thing he could do was hope that clarity would reach him after further meditation. Even though, when it came to his feelings for Jim, he had had no such luck so far, it was not illogical to hope for clarity in his next attempt.

  
  
  


 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so sorry for the late update. I had to work on this chapter and didn't have much time or energy to do so. I originally wanted to do it last weekend, but then I had a horrible migraine, so it didn't work out.   
> This chapter is rather short, but the next one will be longer again. I also have one scene I have to add there, but I'll do my best to finish it before next weekend so that my beta has the time to edit it. Can't promise it 100% but I'll try. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for your lovely comments so far. I do hope you enjoy this chapter, too. :-)

‘ _It isn't uncommon, you know. Even for a captain, to want to leave. There is no relative direction in the vastness of space. It is only yourself, your ship, your crew. It's easier than you think to get lost.’_

When Jim left the Commodore’s office, his mind was racing with questions. About his future and his crew, about her words and everything he had told himself, then discarded and later picked up again. He was still no wiser than before, but he had no time to contemplate his personal affairs now. That would have to wait.

A Non-Federation vessel had come to the starbase, seeking help. Its only pilot, a woman of an unknown species, had seemed very agitated, and it had taken them some time - while the universal translator was working to decode her language - to understand why.

Her ship, a science vessel, had malfunctioned and crash-landed on an unknown planet near the Sise Nebula. She’d been able to get on an escape shuttle and call for help. And, naturally, Starfleet would provide. But the Nebula was tricky, and not many vessels on the starbase were equipped to navigate it. There had been no question for Jim on what to do.

There’d been so much he’d wanted to do, to mull over and work-through, but Jim wouldn’t be Jim if he didn’t offer to help, if he didn’t do what any good Starfleet officer, any good captain, would do. And it probably was the knowledge that he and his ship _could_ help that filled him with more peace and purpose than he had felt in a while.

It was a shame to have to tell his crew that their long-awaited shore leave would be cut short; some of them had already taken transportation to other planets in the vicinity and would not be available, but the Enterprise could manage a short-term mission with her skeleton crew and a few more of those who were still around. He’d at least grant them a few hours of rest before heading out first thing in the morning. To once more boldly go and save the day.

Once in his quarters, sleep didn’t come to Jim, however. His thoughts circled back and forth, a constant hum of background noise that just wouldn’t shut up. Should he really take that job offer and try something new? What would his crew say, and would Spock follow into Jim’s footsteps and lead them through missions such as this, in the future? Who’d be there by _his_ side, then, as his first officer? And then he thought about the few details he had been given about the Nebula, brought up things he had read and studied during his years at the Academy, and then, inevitably, thought of Bones who’d befriended him as his first and only real friend since… he couldn’t even remember how long.

At long last, around one and a half, maybe two hours before he had to get up again, he finally managed to fall asleep.   

Back on the Enterprise, tired but managing, Jim felt relieved with the purpose of a mission. It was in moments like this when he almost worked on auto-pilot; his mind went over the mission plan, over the things he had to check and keep his eyes on, over the alternatives he had briefly discussed with Sulu and Chekov that would guide them safely through the Nebula. And then, he had a moment to himself, enough time to ground himself as he made his way to the turbolift that would bring him up to the bridge.

It was a rather ironic twist of fate that confronted him with the issues he had pushed to the back of his mind. Right there in the lift, as the doors opened for Jim to enter, was Spock, and something ached in Jim’s stomach, gnawing at his confidence and making him feel oddly anxious.

“Mister Spock,” he acknowledged politely, wishing he could smile, could be happy to see his first officer and friend.

“Captain”, Spock replied distantly, just protocol and nothing else. What would Spock say if he learned about Jim’s plans? Would he not feel anything about it at all? Would he even feel relieved?

The silence between them was as awkward as it had been for a long while now.

“I was thinking--”

“Perhaps there--”

They both started at the same moment, and Jim felt something in him, fleeting and too soft to grasp, but something akin to hope that made him look up at Spock.

“No, please,” he said, almost regretting having raised his gaze. The sight filled him with bitter longing, and yet, he drank it in, realising how long he had been avoiding to look, _properly_ look at Spock now. .

“Captain, after you,” Spock said and, after a pause in which Jim did not reply, added: “I insist.”

There was no use to cop out of this now, he thought, looking back down and forward to the closed lift doors. Although, the few moments they had were hardly sufficient to start a real conversation. Would Spock even be interested in that? Or would he only hear what Jim had to say and then accept his decision - if Jim managed to fully reach one - without a word?

“After this mission, we should… we should sit down. I have something I need to talk to you about.” Jim hoped he brought across that he did not want a one-way flow of information, and that Spock would accept it and, no matter the reason for his distance, _really_ talk to him. And in the meantime, Jim would have to make up his mind about this new job opportunity, or to find the right words to fix this mess they were in, to somehow get them back on track. If he stayed. And he really didn’t know if he should or even could stay. Just as he didn’t know if he could bring himself to leave.

When Jim looked back at Spock, he could see his first officer look intently at him but no emotion betrayed on his features that Jim could pinpoint. “I, as well, have something to share”

Whatever that could be. From the best Jim could hope for - suggesting they rekindle their friendship - over informing Jim that he’d marry Uhura to something other and not quite as important, he didn’t know which to consider the most likely scenario.

If Jim had thought, for a hopeful second, Spock would at least hint at what it was, he was sorely disappointed. There was an awkward pause between them, and it seemed like their conversation had already ended. Somehow, Jim didn’t want that to happen.

“We make a good team, right?” he asked on a whim, looking back at Spock. He needed something, just a small, little hint that not _everything_ was lost.

There was something on Spock’s features then, a softness that hadn’t been there before, but before Jim could fully grasp it, the look vanished as Spock tilted his head slightly and glanced at Jim with unreadable eyes. “I believe we do.”

Jim could not be fully satisfied with that answer, but it also wasn’t a complete disappointment. It could mean nothing and _something_ at the same time. Schroedinger’s cat.

The doors of the turbo lift opened then, and Spock motioned for Jim to go first. Jim remained where he stood, putting on a small smile and prompted Spock to go instead. “I insist.” He needed that moment just to catch himself, focus on his professional duties and leave all else for after the mission.

After it, they really had to talk, if only for Jim to tell him he’d be leaving.

  
  


~*~

  
  


If his relationship with Spock had been Jim’s greatest worry just a few hours ago, it now seemed awfully trivial, all their difficulties stupid, pointless in face of the massive tragedy that unfolded itself in front of Jim’s eyes. He was hurtling downward onto the unknown planet, relatively safe in his Kelvin pod - aptly named after the vessel his father had served on, he briefly had to think with a pang of regret and irony. But that feeling hardly registered among the clenching ache in his chest as he watched the Enterprise - or what was left of her - crash towards the sharp rocks. Completely dead, just a heap of metal, nothing but a ruin of the ship that had been Jim’s _home_ for so long.

How could he have ever thought of her as a prison?

It wasn’t the ship alone that he grieved for - although ‘grieve’ was hardly the right word. In order to grieve, you had to actually realise what had happened first, come to terms with it somewhat, accept it as a part of your reality. But this? This was too much to believe. Too mind-blowing and horrible to accept. But it wasn’t just the ship. Because the ship had only ever been a ship. What had made it home, what had tied Jim’s heart to it in a way he had forgotten how to properly appreciate over the past few months, were the people on it. And he’d seen so many of them die in the attack. Others lost, their fate unknown. Uhura, Scotty, Bones, Spock. They could all be dead. All of them gone in a series of unfortunate and unforeseen events, and Jim didn’t even have the time to wonder what he had done wrong, where he could have made a different decision to prevent the worst.

He should not have offered to lead the mission - not with so little preparation. And he should not have blindly trusted the stranger to genuinely ask for help when she might as well have led them into this trap. Whoever those aliens were, with their advanced and unknown technology that managed to take the Enterprise out like flies devouring a corpse, she must have known.

He should have evacuated the ship sooner. He should not have let Bones and Spock go to fight a superior intruder, should not have let Uhura sacrifice herself for him. Should not have waited so long. Should have just stayed on the bridge and gone down with his ship because that would have been easier than existing with this clenching, mind-numbing pain of regret and, yes, grief in his chest.

But no, they couldn’t all be dead. Jim could  _not_ think of the option of having lost all of them, because if he allowed that thought, he’d not be able to go on. Then he really should have died with them. And he _had to_ go on, had to do whatever he could to find his crew - whatever was left of them - and bring them home. Somehow.

And if he couldn’t do that, then he’d die trying. But he’d make sure to take down as many of the bastards that had attacked his ship down with him.

  
  
  


 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry for not being able to post last weekend. I only managed to edit my chapter Sunday morning, and then my beta reader was ill and couldn't read the chapter until last night. 
> 
> I've been having a really busy and stressful time, most of all because Lino was doing worse again. Last Monday, I thought this was the end and that I'd have to put him to sleep. I had already called an emergency vet who does home visits, prepared to let him go, but he was improving again over the course of the evening. (The reason may have been the diuretics he got on Sunday because there was liquid in his lungs, and those drugs can knock you out a bit). It's still touch and go with him, and I honestly don't know how long he'll make it. Also, the vet costs this month were crazy. If you're interested, you can read more about him on my tumblr. leandraholmes.tumblr.com/tagged/my-kitties
> 
>  **But about the chapter:** I hope you enjoy it. The next one is already beta-read (my beta was really busy last night), I just have to go over the suggestions and take a little more time for it. And after the next, there are three more chapters + a short epilogue. So we're almost there.   
> Thank you all so, so much for your comments. Even if I haven't replied to all of them lately due to my personal situation, be assured that I have read them and been very pleased.

The mission had not gone according to plan. The information they had based their efforts on had been but a ploy. The exact reasons for it: unclear. The fate of the Enterprise crew: unknown.

Spock replayed all the data he had in his mind, all information he had gathered from the moment he and Doctor McCoy had left the bridge to the crash landing of the captured alien vessel, his last visual of the Enterprise as she had been attacked. He tried to determine the chances of survival of the crew, but the data was most insufficient. At this point, it was entirely possible that he and Doctor McCoy were the only survivors. The effort to discard this thought and remain open to a more optimistic outcome was bigger for Spock than he would have liked, and the fact that his mind had to exert control over his body for it to remain functioning despite his injury only added to his exertion. His eyes closed, focusing on deep and even breaths, Spock tried his best to keep the damage to a limit. But he knew he could not maintain it for very long. With no access to medical facilities, Spock would, in all likelihood, die from inner haemorrhaging combined with a progressing sepsis within the next four, maybe five hours.

He felt fingers on his face, then, rather close - probably unintentionally so - to his psi points, and a hint of panic reached him through the physical contact.

“Spock? Spock, wake up dammit!”

Spock opened his eyes and reached for one of the doctor’s hands to pull it away from his face. “I’m entirely conscious, doctor. I’m simply contemplating the nature of mortality.”

McCoy let go off his face but regarded him for a moment longer, concern clearly visible on his human and rather expressive features. “Feeling philosophical, huh?” he asked, as he sat back down next to Spock, leant against the rock wall. “Massive blood loss will do that to you.”

There was probably truth in that statement. Spock found it harder and harder to control his thoughts and emotions, to not experience regret of all he could not accomplish any longer, should he die. All potential wasted, not only professional but also personal, perhaps even more so. He thought of Nyota and what, despite the change in their relationship, losing him would mean to her. Should he have said more to her, made it even clearer how sorry he was for having caused her sorrow? If he died today, he would not have the chance to do so. And if he didn’t, there still was the possibility she had not survived the attack.

He thought of his father. His first son had been lost to him for years; the woman he had loved more than Spock had ever known while she was still alive had died; now, his son and only remaining family might follow, or, if he survived, be stuck here on an unknown planet with no means of contacting Starfleet, and Spock’s father would have to conclude that it was very likely his son had met his death, too.

Then, aside from the sympathy and sadness he experienced for those who would mourn him, there was the fact that he’d be yet another member of an already dwindling species lost. S’chn T’gai Spock - died twice within only a week’s time.

His mind conjured up the memory of those nearly prophetic words his older counterpart had spoken to him, now more than four years ago. And it filled Spock with sorrow that all he and Jim could have accomplished together was in all likelihood not as much as the other Spock had envisioned for them, as he, himself, had experienced.

He could not think of Jim more than that. Could not allow the possibility that his captain, his _friend_ had died.

There was a sudden urge in him, one that he had not yet experienced in this way, to confide his thoughts in the doctor, or at least some of them. As if that somehow - illogically - could relieve the burden he was experiencing.

“You asked me why Lieutenant Uhura and I parted ways,” he started, knowing the facts he was intending to reveal were only half of the entire picture. “I became concerned, in the light of Vulcan’s demise, that I owed a debt of duty to my species.”

“You thought you should be off making little Vulcans, huh?” he asked, his tone much softer than Spock was used to hearing from the doctor. Then, there was a slightly more typical and yet not completely usual exasperated sigh. “Yea, I can see how that’d upset her.”

“I intended to discuss it with her further but I received some news which affected me unexpectedly,” Spock said, and that, too, was not the full truth. But not a complete lie either.

“What news?” McCoy asked after a pause of several seconds.

“Ambassador Spock has died.”

The completely unfamiliar gentleness was there again on McCoy’s face, true compassion clearly visible. Spock was hardly surprised. The adverse attitude they had so often displayed toward one another had long ago become nothing more but an amusing game. “Oh. Spock I’m so sorry. I… I can’t imagine what that must… feel like.”

Maybe it really was the blood loss. Spock had never been so close to dying. It was like something was set loose in him, his control fading and emotions he usually guarded from others surfacing. His vision blurred, and his nose felt congested. Spock took a deep breath and felt it spread painfully through his ribcage, a deep, sharp pull somewhere at his right side. “When you lived as many lives as he fear of death is illogical.”

“Fear of death is what keeps us alive,” McCoy said, still with that gentle voice, but with emphasis in it now. And yes, maybe all of these unpleasant effects, the loss of emotional control, was a side-effect of his body fighting to remain functional. And maybe, as illogical as that concept was, luck could be on their side. At least, incalculable as it was, there was still a chance that they’d be found by someone that did not mean them harm.   

“I want to live as he did,” he started and looked at McCoy, making sure to convey gratitude in his glance and voice. And if he died after all and McCoy didn’t, he somehow felt - more than consciously decided - that he wanted to share this with somebody. “That is why I decided to redirect my efforts and continue his work. On New Vulcan.”  

The doctor looked at him surprised, anxious. “You’re leaving Starfleet?”

Spock looked away, feeling the weight of this decision once more. If McCoy already seemed displeased at the prospect…

 “What did Jim have to say about that?”

There he was, now at the forefront of Spock’s mind, his image as clear as if Spock was looking at him right now. His eyes so blue. If he had to answer that question on his favourite colour again…

“I could not find the time to tell him.” Maybe he never would. Maybe Jim was dead already. He could not deny that possibility any longer, and it took all his strength not to give in to the despair this option meant.

“Oh I can tell you, he’s not gonna like that,” McCoy said regretfully. “Hell, I don’t know what he’d do without you. I mean, you know, me on the other hand I’d, I’d throw a party, but…”

It was ridiculous but beyond his control. And a part of Spock didn’t want to fight it, that spark of hilarity that suddenly filled his chest with something other than pain of injury and fear for worse. Spock allowed it to happen and let out a slow, long laugh.

The chuckle from the doctor that followed was cut off abruptly as he looked at Spock, wide-eyed. “My god, you’re getting delirious.”

“Maybe I am,” Spock agreed as the smile faded. And he wished he was. It would probably be easier to bear than this uncertainty.

 

~*~

Jim had no idea how much time had passed. He felt tired, exhausted even, but he had no time to allow himself to rest. He had found Chekov right after landing, and then, a short while later, Scotty and his new friend Jaylah, who had been on this planet for years and had taken them to the crashed Starfleet ship - and to shed some light on the mystery of their attack. Karala’s trap only completed the picture, together with the fact that the one they called Krall had been after the Fibonan artifact. But aside from that, Jim was still no wiser nor was he closer to freeing the rest of his crew. If they’d even survived having been captured by Krall’s ‘bees’, as Jaylah had called them. It became harder and harder to hold on to that hope with everything Jim learned.

At least Bones and Spock had survived, that much was certain. Jim could not remember when he’d last felt such utter relief like when first Spock, then Bones, materialised on the transporter pad. It was like something that had been tensed beyond endurance was set loose and allowed Jim to breathe again at seeing both their faces. Though Spock’s was paler than usual, sweaty and contorted with pain and effort.

Very carefully and gently, Jim helped Spock lie down on one of the sofa seats in what used to be a rec hall, and his heart swelled with something both pleasant and heavy.

“How are we gonna get out of this one, Spock?” he asked softly, not wanting to let go of Spock’s arm, not quite daring to hold his hand but needing the physical contact. Whether to give comfort and reassurance or draw it himself, Jim wasn’t sure. “We got no ship, no crew. Not the best odds.”  

“We will do what we have always done, Jim,” Spock replied, voice strained with effort, his breath hitching. “We will find hope in the impossible.”

Despite everything that had happened between them, all the distance and tension, Jim appreciated then, possibly more than ever before, just how important Spock was to him, not just because Jim had feelings for him, but because he always knew what to say in the most desperate of moments, providing insight, perspective, and, in the worst of circumstances, like now, hope. If Spock, with all his analytical thinking and logic, could dare to hope, then so could Jim.

“Let’s get you patched up first, okay?” he said, turning towards Bones, but he felt a tension in Spock’s lower arm where Jim’s fingers were still wrapped around him.

“Captain! You must focus your efforts on helping the crew.” Always the noble one, always putting the needs of others above his own. That feeling in Jim’s chest stretched and widened further, and he felt a prickling in the base of his nose, a small shiver down his neck.

“That’s why I need you around, Spock.” He could and would not lose him. Not now. Not after just having gotten him back.

Jim saw Spock exchange a look with Bones then, over his shoulder, and there was something knowing in his friend’s eyes that made Jim’s heart drop to his stomach with trepidation. But there was no time to ask questions now.

“These things are from the dark ages,” Bones said as he examined the medical instruments. Jim was tempted to pray to every deity he didn’t believe in for Bones to be able to fix Spock’s injury.

Suddenly, Spock started to wheeze and groan in pain, and Jim barely dared to breathe.  

“Bones,” Jim beckoned him over, and the seconds until Bones was leaning above Spock and getting to work seemed entirely too long.

“Pretty sure this is a protoplaser,” he said. “Could stop the internal haemorrhaging. At least that’s my hope.”

“The miserable have no other medicine but only hope,” Spock got out, voice strained, and Bones rolled his eyes at that.

“Death’s door and he’s quotin’ Shakespeare.”

At least he was in the mood for jokes, so it might not look all that grim. But Jim hadn’t much liked the wording of ‘death’s door’. This had to work. It just _had_ to.

He stayed at Spock’s side while Bones was working. Whatever the device did, it sure wasn’t pleasant. Spock winced and bit his lower lip, and Jim could barely resist the urge to reach out for him again, hold his hand through it and say everything that was on his mind.

“I found more,” Jaylah came hurrying towards them and gave Bones a box with what looked like several hypos and bottles, which the doctor examined immediately.

“Hundred-year-old medicine. I don’t like it, but we’ll have to chance it.”

And yeah, Jim didn’t like the sound of that either, particularly with Bones’ pessimism ringing through.

Spock still seemed to be in pain although, from what Jim could tell, the wound was starting to heal, but the strain the blood loss had had on Spock’s system was not negligible.

When Bones administered the hypo with whatever substance he had deemed appropriate, there was no immediate change. Spock’s face was still pale, his breath going ragged, but then, very slowly and gradually, it seemed to calm and he started taking deeper, slower breaths again.

“Is it working?” Jim asked tensely but hopeful.

“I think so,” Bones muttered as he ran a medical scanner over Spock’s torso. “What do you say, Spock?”

Spock took another few deep and calm breaths, and then, very gingerly raised his head.

“Stay put. Give it a few minutes to work,” Bones said and gently pushed Spock back down to lie flat on his back.

And finally, after a few more now seemingly completely calm breaths, Spock spoke up. “I feel… better.”

Jim felt a proverbial weight drop from his shoulders and the literal tension in them fading as he released a deep breath.

“Well thank God for that,” Bones breathed out in visible relief, too.

“I would assume it is twenty-second-century scientific knowledge and your medical expertise that I am to be thankful for,” Spock said, and although his voice was still soft and marked with his previous exhaustion, it sounded a lot firmer and calmer now.

“Yeah, smartassing me already. He’s gonna survive,” Bones said with an exasperated wave of one hand and in the general direction of the room.

It was the first time a genuine smile formed on Jim’s lips. He slid down onto the floor, legs outstretched and back leaning against the seat close to where Spock’s head was resting. He allowed himself just a few minutes to breathe, soak in the relief and draw strength from it. Then, together with Scotty, Chekov, Bones, Jaylah _and_ with Spock they’d figure out how to save the day.

“I’m glad you made it, Spock,” he said softly once Bones had gone.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Spock’s head turn. “So am I.”

~*~

Jim felt the slipstream pull him to the airlock, no surface to hold on to in his reach. Adrenaline was racing through him, and with it, in a span of just a few seconds, too many thoughts at once, none of them solid enough to focus on except one clear and overwhelming fact: that he did not want to, _could not_ die. Not now. Not after having gotten his crew back, having prevented the worst and defeated Krall. There was still so much to do, so much to figure out and say. So many trivial things that had bothered him. None of it mattered now. Just that he didn’t want to _die_.

He smashed against something and, before even fully registering what it was, frantically tried to grip it, but he kept slipping. Then, a hand grabbed him, and even though he couldn’t properly see, he knew who it was immediately. Jim held on to Spock’s hand with all his might, pulled himself up to the hatch of the alien vessel while the stream of air maintained its grip on him. And then, at last, he was inside, collapsing against the wall and breathing heavily, his heart pumping rapidly in his chest.

He heard Bones cheer, and a chuckle left him on its own accord. Relief, such relief rushing through him, and a warmth of gratitude that chased the last residue of fear away.

“What would I do without you, Spock?” he asked, still feeling too dizzy to focus properly on his friend but feeling him near.

No matter what it had been exactly that had kept them apart, Jim knew they would fix things now. Jim would fight for it, would not shy away from uncomfortable conversations, hide in his own misery and allow their friendship to deteriorate. And, when he finally looked at Spock and saw emotion on his features - albeit difficult to identify exactly - he knew that he would succeed. That _they_ would succeed.  

And so, when he was back in Commodore Paris’ office the next day and rejected her proposal to take the post, he told her “Admirals don’t fly,” but that was not the whole reason.

He didn’t just want to _fly_. He wanted to fly with the crew of the most admirable people he’d ever known. His friends. His family. And, for the first time in months, he was completely sure of it. Jim wouldn’t give that up for anything else in the world.  

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry for the delay with this chapter, as I said I'd post it sooner since it was already beta-read. My beta still had to go over some comments of mine, for me to find a good solution. Now, two things happened that prevented us finishing this quickly. 
> 
> Firstly, my beta got sick and then had a lot of work to catch up on. Secondly, even if my beta had had time to do the final edits, I would not have been in the right headspace to implement them and post the chapter. Last Thursday, I finally had to let Lino be put to sleep. He had been doing very poorly for several days, just dragging himself from hiding place to hiding place - or, which was the only upside, to his food bowl. 
> 
> It was a really, really tough decision but absolutely the right one. I don't think he would have lasted much longer, had I not taken that step, anyway. But, as you can imagine, this has been absolutely devastating for me. Lino was such a special, cute, funny, clever little cat. I miss him terribly, and I've been bawling my eyes out pretty much all of Wednesday (which is when I decided I had to do it and made an appointment with the vet to come for a home visit), and Thursday. And most mornings and evenings after that. It's a horrible, massive loss that goes much further than having lost two other cats before, both of which were old and had lived long, happy and - mostly - healthy lives. Lino didn't even get to see his third birthday and should have gotten so much more. 
> 
> Thank you all for your kind comments so far. It was really appreciated. 
> 
> Now, on a less sad note, on to the chapter. I do hope everything works out and I will be able to post the next one in about a week. Only three more chapters now and a short epilogue. Please let me know if you enjoyed this one (and also, if you can, which details you enjoyed. Because I love hearing that and knowing which aspects in particular people liked).

The medical facilities at Starfleet command on Yorktown were outstanding, with the latest medical developments present in both equipment and the professional training of the medical personnel. However, the injury Spock had obtained had already been treated by Doctor McCoy, and there was hardly any need for more than a thorough scan and some light medication.

Spock was not the only member of the Enterprise crew who had been treated there, a few of them having sustained moderate to heavier but not life-threatening injuries, but as far as he could judge from the size of the facilities, there should be enough beds for those patients that required to stay there overnight. Spock, however, was released after a shot of antibiotics and a hypo with a medium-dose analgesic that he could administer himself, should he require it.

When he stepped out of the building the clinic was located in, and onto the plaza at the centre of the starbase, Spock saw - to his mild surprise - Nyota coming his way. Dressed in civilian clothes that hadn’t been in her possession before, and her hair let loose, it appeared she had used the past four hours and twenty-two minutes after their return to freshen up and obtain new clothing, as everything they had owned had been lost on board the Enterprise.

“Spock, you’re getting out already?” she asked, mild worry on her features but a smile around her lips nonetheless.

Spock tilted his head a fraction. “The injury I obtained is seventy-three per cent healed. The examination was merely a precautionary measure, and--”

“You’re fine,” she interrupted him, concluding what he had begun to explain. The smile on her face grew a little more pronounced. “I am glad.”

“As am I,” Spock replied as they stood facing each other. “Do you require medical attention?”

“What? No, I’m fine,” she said. “I’m here for you.”

Upon his questioning glance, Nyota released a small chuckle and looked at him, both brows slightly raised. “Is the concept of hanging out as friends so foreign to you?”

He was grateful for her attempt at humour, teasing him as she obviously had intended. It meant that, despite the conflict between them, despite what he had done to her, she held no resentment toward him.

“I am glad to be able to call you my friend,” he said.

Nyota released a small - if rather content - sigh. Then she stepped to his side and hooked her arm with his, motioning with her free hand toward the building their temporary quarters were located in. As they started their path, her arm slipped from his again and they walked side by side.

“Have you had a chance to think about what you want to do again?”

She did not need to elaborate on what she meant precisely. Spock knew, and he also had anticipated that it would be one of the first topics they’d discuss as soon as the opportunity arose.

“I am… not sure,” he replied, dissatisfied with his own answer. “Nyota, there is news that I have not yet had the opportunity to disclose to you. Ambassador Spock--”

“Passed away, I know,” she finished, her voice soft and sympathetic. “Doctor McCoy told me. I’m so sorry, Spock.” She reached for his upper arm, her hand on it for a moment to convey sympathy, and although he did not need it and did not allow himself to feel any of her emotions by shielding himself, he did appreciate the gesture.

“He lived a long life. Death at this age is not premature.” It was a simple fact, and yet it did not fully make up for the grief he was feeling. And how strange that was… to grieve _himself_.

“You think you need to continue his work,” she said without him having to mention it.

“It was one aspect of my reasoning.” He was, however, not so sure about it any longer.

They had reached the building and stepped inside the lobby towards the lift. Spock’s quarters were on the seventeenth floor, Nyota’s right next to his. Whoever had arranged for the accommodation prior to their docking at Yorktown Base for shore leave had, in all likelihood, thought they were still romantically involved.

“Are you sure the… the _other_ aspect,” Nyota started after a longer pause, her voice sounding slightly strained now, and Spock understood that she did not want to mention Jim. It was highly illogical; after all, pronouncing something that one was aware of did not increase its truth or weight, but Spock had long ago learned that humans often felt that way. And the one or other time, he had caught himself experiencing a similar sentiment.

“Well, that it really is what you think it is? That there’s absolutely no chance?” She tried to mask it, but there was frustration in her tone as well as her posture that had become more rigid, chin raised approximately an inch higher than when she was emotionally and physically at ease.

The lift was empty when they entered it, but Spock did not reply immediately.

_What would I do without you, Spock?_

The words still resounded in his mind as if he was hearing them again. Spock had felt guilt then, and he did so now because it was clear to him, now more than ever, that Jim did not want to lose him as first officer and friend any more than Nyota wanted to lose him.

Before and during having been treated on board the USS Franklin, he had sensed Jim’s distress as well as his affection. It had not just been present in his tone and facial expression but radiated so vividly through the physical contact when he had held on to Spock’s arm, and Spock had been too weakened to keep up his mental shields. Furthermore, Jim had voiced then and later that he needed Spock at his side, particularly in time of crisis. Yet, there was no indication that Jim’s affections were of the same nature as his own. That, most likely, would remain an unsolved riddle to him until he found the courage to ask. Except that Spock did not know how.

“It is illogical, but I fear the rejection I could experience,” he admitted at last.

“Oh Spock,” Nyota sighed. “That’s just the thing, you know. How can you even be so sure that you _would_ be rejected?  And yes, the only reason I’m saying this is because I don’t want you to leave.” The lift doors opened and two engineering ensigns stood there, wanting to board it. Neither Nyota nor Spock spoke until they had left and entered the corridor where both their quarters were located.

“I know it’s your decision and yours alone, but I wanted you to know that, Spock,” she went on, then, her tone firm but gentle as she came to a halt at the door of her room.

“I appreciate your honesty,” Spock said, not knowing what else to tell her. He was still torn - between duty and longing, between fear and hope.

“Look,” she started again, tone still low, lest they be overheard, but insisting. “I want you as a friend, and looking back over the past few months, or even… I don’t know, a year or more, we’ve worked much better as friends than as lovers. I know it may not feel that way to you now - I _know_ -” Her gaze was stern, not pleading but a conviction in it that Spock knew Nyota hoped to be catching, “but even if that’s all you and Jim ever will be, too, ask yourself if it’s not better having at least two very close friends than having nobody.”

Spock did not know what to say. For a long moment, both of them remained silent.

_What would I do without you, Spock?_

What would Spock do without Jim? Without Nyota, and yes, also without Dr McCoy. Spock had gained a new and deeper sense of appreciation for the doctor who had - in a foolishly human fashion - refused to give up on him and to put his own, more likely survival above Spock’s. Would he have been able to expect the same from a Vulcan comrade? It was a quality in humans that Spock had first been highly sceptical about but learned to appreciate over the years. To find hope in the impossible, put aside logic and statistical probabilities and go with a ‘gut feeling’ or sheer faith. Humans were remarkable like that.

What would Spock do without _them_?  

“I have something for you,” Nyota finally broke the silence before pressing her chip to the panel by the door. “A Vulcan named Delvok delivered a package for you earlier, and I could convince him that he could entrust me with it.” The package, an approximately thirty-five by twenty-eight by eighteen centimetres, stood directly next to the door on the floor. Nyota picked it up and handed it to Spock.

“Thank you, Nyota.”

She nodded again. “There’s something else. You’re probably aware that it’s Jim’s birthday tomorrow?”

“I am aware,” Spock replied, guessing the direction her question was going. “But to my understanding, he does not celebrate it.”

Nyota shrugged slightly. “Leonard had the idea of a surprise party. He said it would do Jim good, and I think so too. So if you’re available at nineteen-hundred, and if you… if you _can_ come,” she said more softly, gentle encouragement in her gaze, “we’re all going to be in rec room 7 on the first floor.”

Spock just nodded his acknowledgement of the information, giving no definite answer yet.

“Okay. I’ll leave you to it,” she said and, with a final glance toward him, entered her room and closed the door.

Spock went to his own quarters. Since his last visit before the start of their voyage into the nebula, maintenance had obviously entered the room for cleaning, and there was a stack of clothing on his bed, both Starfleet regulation items and a few generic - probably replicated - civilian pieces.

While he did want to know what the package contained, Spock also wanted to get cleaned up and put on fresh clothing. So he did that first, making sure to shut out all other thoughts and regain a sense of mental calm similar to that of meditation - as he often did while taking a sonic shower.

Once he was clean and dressed in a blue science uniform, Spock went and opened the grey plastic container. He didn’t know what he had expected, but the sight of a silver box with the engraved letters “Property of Ambassador Spock” made an odd sense of sorrow spread in his ribcage. It was illogical; emotions happened in the brain, and furthermore, an item as the one he was currently looking at should not amplify his grief. And yet it did, made him feel a sadness for the elder Spock that he had not experienced in the same way upon initially hearing of his passing.

Spock knew he did not want to open the box here, in this standard room, and he justified his need with wanting to honour Vulcan customs more than with an irrational feeling of needing something more… fitting. There was a Vulcan meditation room on the fifth floor of the building, and, after having carefully put the box back in its container, he took the lift back down and found the room empty.

He sat down on the small bench and took the box out once more, placing it on the table in front of him, his movements slow, his breathing deep and calm. Yet it felt like each breath was pushing against an inner pressure in his lungs.

Spock let his fingers run along the edges of the box. It was almost like a caress, an involuntary movement he had felt, rather than intended. Slowly and carefully, he opened the lid. He saw Vulcan cursive embroidered on red, and another item made from grey fabric underneath. Spock touched it carefully, felt its silky texture and the raised structure of the pattern under his fingertips. Something solid was under it, half hidden, and Spock pulled it out. A small metal box with Vulcan ornaments, and Spock knew what it must contain and how to open it.

There was an old photograph, the senior officers of the Enterprise, the very same officers as the ones of the current crew, but significantly older than them. Spock surmised they were in their late fifties to early sixties. Kirk sat in the middle, on what must be the captain’s chair, and despite his aged appearance, there was a youthful spark in his eyes, a smirk around his lips that was so typical of him.

Spock stood the farthest to the right, followed by Sulu, Chekov, Scott, McCoy and Nyota, all forming a crescent around their captain. He didn’t know if it was just his imagination, but somehow despite others being physically closer to Kirk, Spock and he seemed to… gravitate towards each other. It was illogical to think that; the picture did not move, and yet, there was something in the way Kirk leant towards his right side that made him appear closest to the elder Spock.

A sense of destiny struck him then, of a different kind of legacy than the one Ambassador Spock had built within the past few years, and Spock wasn’t so sure anymore his reasoning for leaving had been logical. The first, ‘official’ aspect, not the personal one. _That_ obstacle still remained.

Spock carefully closed the case again and set it aside. No matter where his decision would lead him, he’d treasure this item most of all.

He lifted the grey clothing item, making sure to keep it in its neatly folded state, and there, at the bottom of the box, he found a small and rather unexpected item, and he furrowed his brow as he gently picked it up. It was a terran pocket watch, an antique, by the looks of it, and Spock could not imagine why his counterpart had owned such a trinket.

He opened the golden watch and saw its aged face, roman numerals on a slightly yellowish background, the hands delicate and ornate. Inside the cover, however, there was an engraving, and Spock felt, irrationally, like his heart stopped beating when he read the cursive words.

_T’hy’la, may we together become greater than the sum of both of us. Jim._

It was a moment of both shock and delight in a way he had never experienced it before. _T’hy’la_. They had been t’hy’la. Not just colleagues, nor friends, but so much more.

In another timeline, an alternate reality, Jim Kirk and Spock were connected in the most profound way possible. And it hit Spock then with sudden clarity that, all along, the feelings he had been having for Jim could be described with that word alone.

The only question that remained was whether _his_ Jim could see the same in Spock. And he found that the need for it, the want, ran deeper than his fears. Deeper than the urge to get away from all of it, deeper than his shame and fear of rejection. And even if it would remain one-sided in its depth, some of the desires Spock felt for Jim never fulfilled, it may just be worth it to put his hope and faith in whatever they _could_ have.

Because what would they do without _each other_?

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank all of you who've commented lately. I wanted to take some time to reply to the comments individually, and I promise to do that over the next few days.   
> The past 2 weeks were turbulent, as you can imagine. I still miss my little Lino, but I've been feeling better lately. It's still tough, and sometimes it feels completely surreal that he is actually gone, but yeah... that's just part of the process, I guess. So thank you all for your kind words. 
> 
> At least I've found a good distraction that has kept my mind occupied and busy: I've started playing the Sims. Of course, I also made Jim and Spock, as well as Steve/Bucky, Bones/Uhura, Jon Snow/Ygritte and a couple of random characters. Jim and Spock have a son they named after Jim's dad, and he's dating Robb, who's Jon's son, not supposed half-brother/cousin. And Sansa (who's also Jon's daughter) is dating Joana McCoy (who's actually Nyota's daughter). It's complicated ^^ (and you might not even be interested, so I'm gonna shut up now). 
> 
> Anyway, the chapter... I hope you like it. Though it's probably not that interesting... ;-)   
> Two more after that, although it's actually just one chapter, but it's so effing long I will have to split it somewhere. Hopefully, my beta-reader can tell me where because it's rather tricky. 
> 
> So, enjoy, and let me know what you thought :-)

The party was, Jim had to admit, a nice surprise. He had never wanted to celebrate his birthday, because all it did was remind him of the fact that he wouldn’t be here, had it not been for his dad sacrificing his own life. But that hadn’t been the only reason. Growing up, his mom had always been particularly sad on the anniversary of her husband’s death; Jim had seen it, had felt what she was trying to hide from him and everybody else. If she was even there at all. And when she wasn’t and it was just Jim and Frank, Jim’s birthdays had mainly - at best - consisted of a store-bought cake unlovingly thrown on the kitchen table still in its plastic wrapper, a half-hearted “happy birthday” and the rest of the day spent with as much attention and affection as on any other day.

Jim had always felt particularly lonely on his birthday, and somehow, even in the years that followed his moving out of the house, he had never tried to turn it into something special. Bones had caught on pretty soon into their friendship and had navigated around it, just taking Jim out for drinks a few days before or after it. And it had been okay like that.

Jim couldn’t say that his attitude towards his own birthday had done a complete U-turn, but things definitely did feel different. There was a melancholy in him, still, and his thoughts were with the crew members they had lost in Krall’s attack. But so many of them _had_ survived and had come to celebrate his birthday, all smiling, wishing him well and giving him a sense of family that he had never known while growing up.

How could he have ever thought of giving that up?

Something in him still ached when he looked at Spock. A longing deep in the pit of his stomach that he would just have to learn to live with until he’d overcome it eventually. Whenever that was. But something had _shifted_ in their relationship. As stupid and clichéd as it was, tragedy had brought them closer together once again, and whatever fragile thing their friendship was at this point, Jim was _not_ going to let go of it this time. They’d play chess and spend time together and talk. Jim was going to fake it until he truly made it because he knew, now more than ever, that the alternative was so, so much worse.

Jim also vowed to at least try and make new friends, ranks be damned. There were so many in his crew - those that hadn’t taken their shore leave before the rescue mission - that he didn’t really know. He knew of their performance and achievements, of course, but Jim would spend more time trying to get to know them better on a personal level, too.

He was just about to head over towards Jaylah - though having her on board the Enterprise as one of his crew members would have to wait at least three years, if it was possible at all - but Lieutenant Kumar just approached her, two glasses of drinks in her hands and a smile on her face that looked most definitely flirty, and Jim was not going to intrude on _that_. Even if he was not so lucky himself, his crew could definitely do with some romance.

With the evening having progressed, the lights outside having gone from daytime to night a while ago, it seemed like that was the general idea among quite a few of those who were still there. Several others had - probably still a bit worn down from the ordeal of the past days - excused themselves early. Sulu and his husband had gone back to their daughter, and Chekov had disappeared long ago with a fellow lieutenant (which, funnily, made him fit into _both_ categories).

Maybe ensigns Dean, Kr’ash and Rand were up for a chat, he thought, looking at the group closest to him, but a movement caught the corner of his eye then, and Jim turned his head to look. Spock came towards him, a look that Jim could only describe as soft on his features, an almost smile on one corner of his mouth. And damn, why did he have to look so good in that dark blue tunic.

“Hey,” Jim said, giving Spock a small smile of his own. “Where’s your better half?”

Something flickered across Spock’s eyes that Jim couldn’t read. “Conversing with Doctor McCoy, I believe.”

Jim nodded and took another sip of his almost empty glass. So Spock wanted to spend time with him, it seemed. This was a start.

“Do you want another drink, Spock?” he asked, setting his empty glass on one of the round bar tables. Jim was still trying not to drink _too_ much, and so had, surprisingly, developed a taste for light, fruity mixed drinks. Though he had no idea what it was that he had been drinking.

“No, thank you,” Spock replied, and there was another odd expression on his face as he looked at Jim, still that softness on his features but something in his dark brown eyes that seemed… not quite relaxed. “You expressed that you wished to speak to me after our mission. There is something I, too, wish to disclose.”

Jim had decided against the position here on Yorktown, and things did look better between them, too. So there was nothing he needed to talk about at present. But Spock did, and Jim was filled with an odd sense of curiosity and anxiety at the prospect, no idea what it could be. “Do you want to talk now?”

Spock stepped from one foot onto the other, hands clasped behind his back. “If you wish to continue celebrating your birthday, it can wait.”

“Yeah,” Jim said, but then immediately shook his head. “No, I mean, it’s fine. If you want to talk now…” He looked around. “Over there?” He nodded towards the small meeting room that was attached to their party location. Somehow, he had the feeling Spock wanted it to be in private.

Spock nodded his agreement and they both went into the room. There was a table with eight chairs and a small upholstered bench facing the large windows onto the plaza. Jim closed the door behind him and went to sit on the bench.

Spock seemed to hesitate for a moment before he sat down, too, looking out onto the well-lit plaza. They had not turned on the lights inside, but the street lamps were bright enough for Jim to make out his surroundings well, to see that Spock did look strained, and oh my god, what could he want to say?

“Lieutenant Uhura is not... my better half,” he started then, and Jim was confused, for a second thinking that Spock was going to say _he_ was the better half, but that was just ridiculous. The only other alternative was…

“Oh... You broke up?”

Spock turned to look back at Jim slowly and nodded. Then, his brow furrowed slightly. “I had assumed Doctor McCoy would have informed you.”

This statement only added to Jim’s confusion, and he felt his own forehead crinkle. “Wait, Bones knows?”

Another nod from Spock and Jim could not help but feel somewhat angry that Bones had not shared that information with him. Then again, maybe he hadn’t wanted Jim to get his hopes up or thought Spock would want to share that fact with him personally - as he obviously did - so Bones had probably kept his mouth shut. Still, Jim was going to have to have a word with him over this.

Then his mind caught on, and he immediately felt a pang of guilt. “Ugh, that’s not the point. Sorry, Spock. I’m really, really sorry for you. Are you okay?”

And wasn’t that the most tragically awkward thing to do? To provide sympathy and solace for a broken heart to the person _you_ are in love with?

“I am fine,” Spock said evenly, and Jim immediately wondered if that was just his Vulcan stoicism.

“When did that happen?” he asked softly, turning a bit on his seat towards Spock. Even if Spock was going to be detached and logical about this and pretend it didn’t hurt him, Jim was not going to treat it lightly. No matter how much that hurt himself.

“Four months and eight days ago,” Spock answered, and Jim felt dumbstruck.

He blinked, trying to wrap his mind around the information, and it automatically went back to their interactions on the bridge or anywhere else where Jim had had a chance to witness them. But he had been too busy with his own feelings to see it. Even if he _was_ fine now, Spock had probably needed a friend, and Jim should have noticed, should have tried harder to fix things between them and provide support.

“God, I had no idea. I’m really sorry.”

Spock’s brow furrowed again as he looked at Jim. “It is of no consequence at present. Nyota and I have re-established an amicable relationship. I assure you, Jim, I feel no regret over the fact that our romantic involvement has ended.”

Now Jim was really confused. Spock sounded perfectly sincere in his explanation, and Jim was glad that his friend was not suffering over the breakup any longer. But if that was the case, then why had he made such a big deal of bringing it up to Jim? He could not, for the life of him, make sense of it.

“Why did you guys break up?” he asked instead. “I mean, you were so great together.”

Spock inhaled slowly, deeply, and his gaze went back outside the window. He didn’t answer for so long that Jim already started to get concerned, thinking he had misread and misunderstood Spock completely. Then, at last, Spock started to speak, very softly. “Nyota made me realise that the affections I had for her were not as deep as the ones…” A short pause, Spock turned his head to look at Jim again, “I have for you.”

It was like all the air had been sucked out of Jim’s lungs, like his muscles had forgotten how to function, and his brain was working in slow-motion. The words were there, the meaning of them unmistakable, and yet there had to be something Jim had missed, because this couldn’t be true. This just was… not real, not possible.

“W--what?” was all he got out, his voice barely above a whisper and breaking as he felt like his heart was jumping up right into his throat.

Spock had looked down again, but now their gazes met, and Spock’s was so full of fear and longing that it was impossible to miss. “I believe I owed you the truth, no matter the consequences. In fact, I owed it to myself to--”

“Wait,” Jim interrupted him, panting out one, two shallow breaths. “You’re… in love with me?”

“I cannot deny it despite my continuous attempts at doing so. However, I can assure you, Jim, if this revelation causes you discomfort, I shall not speak of it again and instead--”

“Spock, shut up!” Jim got out, a breathy laugh bubbling from his chest. He had gotten up from the bench, not even having noticed it, suddenly too full of the weirdest, most wonderful kind of energy to keep him sitting still. There was not enough air getting in his lungs, or not enough out, he wasn’t sure, trying to calm his breath as a smile, so wide that he was sure he must look stupid, spread on his lips. “You’re really in love with me too?”

There was confusion and shock written so clearly on Spock’s features, brows knitted deeper than Jim remembered ever seeing, eyes wide and lips parted, before, faintly and unsure, he asked, “You return my affections?”

“God, you big dumb…” Jim laughed out, not knowing what even to call him. “Yes!”

It was him who moved first, so much Jim was sure of, but Spock must have followed a mere split-second later, because they were both standing when Jim’s hands laid themselves on either side of Spock’s face and their lips touched. The kiss was everything he thought it’d be, and so much more. It was soft, Spock’s lips warm and full against his own, just the smallest of movements and the sound of both of them inhaling deeply. One of Spock’s hands on his shoulder, the other had come around his waist, and it sent such warmth through him, a tingling feeling of something that ran much deeper, filled his heart and mind and every fibre. He had never thought it would actually, really happen one day, but in all his wildest dreams, he had never been able to imagine such an all-encompassing, overwhelming feeling of sheer joy.

He had to let go of Spock’s lips, needing to take a deep breath and to calm his thumping heart. Instead, he wrapped both arms tightly around Spock and felt the embrace returned with equal affection - and the echo of the unfulfilled longing they both must have felt for god only knew how long. Jim could feel moisture in his eyes, but he didn’t care, could only let out another airy laugh as he slowly pulled away enough to look at Spock’s face again.

“God, I’ve been mooning over you forever,” he breathed out, and it felt like that grin would not fade from his features anytime soon. And Spock, too, wore an expression that seemed completely alien to him - something still surprised but clearly delighted despite the absence of a human smile.

“You have?” Spock asked softly. The fingers of one of his hands were drawing small circles across the small of Jim’s back, leaving him warm and tingling there. The mere fact alone that Spock had not asked him to elaborate on his illogical exaggeration told Jim that he, too, was completely stunned by what had just happened.

“Well, about one year and a half,” Jim shrugged softly, biting his lower lip around a grin. Somehow, all that time of pining and unfulfilled longing seemed completely irrelevant now.

Spock, however, seemed completely taken aback by the revelation, sympathy and regret in his gaze before he brought their lips together again - a short contact, then another to the corner of his mouth and his cheek, before Spock buried his face in the crook of Jim’s neck and held him tight. “I’m so sorry, Jim.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he replied, hands stroking through Spock’s hair, thumb brushing along the edge of his right ear before he kissed his mouth again.

Something in the back of his mind caught on then, and Jim pulled away again rather abruptly. “Wait… Does that mean… You didn’t know then?”

Spock looked at him with furrowed brows, clearly no idea what Jim was on about.

“I thought when I kissed you, you kind of sensed it. And that you avoided me afterwards because of that. But… Oh!” Another realisation hit Jim then that seemed to press all air out of his lungs, because it all made sense now. “I told you it’d been just because I was drunk and needy, and you… God, Spock, you already had feelings for me then??”

The embrace loosened slightly, just one of Spock’s hands on the side of Jim’s waist now. Spock lowered his gaze. “I thought I could overcome my infatuation that way. Clearly, I was wrong,” Spock confessed.

Jim felt like actually smacking his head in sheer embarrassment and frustration, the thing was just, he could hardly feel frustrated when all he experienced was still utter bliss. “Damn, we’re both such dumb idiots.”

There was a small raise of Spock’s right eyebrow now, his _Vulcan amusement_ visible in the expression. “Is it a typical human idiosyncrasy to insult one another as a means of expressing affection?”

Jim laughed out softly and leaned back into the embrace. “Well, it is for me,” he said, not wanting to ask if Uhura had never done that. She probably hadn’t.

“Looks like there’s a lot we have to tell each other. But not now,” he said, leaning back again, gaze focussed on Spock’s lush lips. “I’d rather be kissing you again.” He let his thumb brush along the bottom lip briefly, seeing Spock close his eyes and lean into the touch of Jim’s hand, and the sight was something Jim hadn’t been able to dream up either.

When their lips touched this time, he felt Spock’s mouth open beneath his and then the tip of his tongue against his own, slowly, gently, just testing the waters for now. They still had time for so much more, and the thought alone sent a tingling feeling right to his groin.

Suddenly, there was the sound of laughter, then the faint beep of the door opener, and both Jim and Spock tore away from each other on instinct. When the door opened, he saw Jaylah and Suhani Kumar, arms slung around each other, and the human clearly tipsy and giggly. As they spotted Spock and Jim - now standing a foot apart - the young lieutenant straightened a little, but Jaylah kept her hand firmly around her waist.

Jim had to grin as he and Spock exchanged a look, the latter subtly raising an eyebrow at him.

“Ladies,” Jim nodded at them.

“Sorry, captain,” Kumar said and already made an attempt to head back out, but Jim raised his hand and shook his head.

“No, no, it’s fine. We were just…”

“Talking,” Spock prompted, and Jim, while having to bite the inside of his cheek not to laugh out could have sworn there was a small smirk around one corner of Spock’s mouth. They could continue this elsewhere.

“The room’s all yours,” Jim said and, as he passed them on the way to the door, couldn’t quite resist to lean in a bit more closely and say in a low tone, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Kumar looked at him a little sheepishly, but Jaylah gave him a crooked smirk. Good thing the windows were mirrored, so the two of them could knock themselves out with whatever they were up to. As for himself and Spock…

“Your room’s on the seventeenth floor, right?” he asked, leaning in a bit more closely and keeping his voice low. Though nobody of the few guests left really seemed to pay them much attention. “Mine’s in the other building. Your call.”

Spock just gave him a small look, one of contentment and anticipation as he tilted his head. “My quarters should suffice.”

“Well then let’s go,” Jim replied and headed straight to the exit.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, yes, I couldn't resist giving Jaylah some lesbian romance. She always gave off some vibes in that direction to me, and when I recently rewatched Beyond with my lesbian friend, she agreed. As for the young lieutenant, I imagined her to look like the girl from Bend it like Beckham.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry! I forgot about replying to all those comments. I'm really so sorry. I enjoyed them all, and there were a few in particular (like one of you who seemed to have started this fic recently and commented on almost every chapter, or a few other really long ones) I REALLY wanted to take the time to reply to, properly... and I will. I just kinda haven't mustered the motivation yet. But please be assured that I have read every word and enjoyed them tremendously!!! 
> 
> Anyway, on to the chapter, or the first half of it, really. It's just way too long to post in one go and for my beta-reader to have done it all today. I do hope you enjoy it and don't mind the cut too much. It's not like I'm interrupting anything important *cough* ;-)

It always sounded like such a cliche when people said they were so in love they wanted to shout it from the rooftops, but at that moment, as they passed the remaining party guests, Jim finally understood the sentiment. He would very much like to stop right there, announce that he and Spock were together and then kiss him senseless in front of everybody.

However, that’s not what he did. It would have been a wasted opportunity anyway because a) Bones wasn’t there anymore and b) most of the ones still there seemed pretty drunk. So, he followed Spock to the lift and, once the doors had closed again, laid one hand on Spock’s cheek and brought their lips together again. And didn’t that feel amazing.

A part of him was still in shock - an odd state of thinking this was too good to be true, and wondering whether he’d wake up only to find out it had been a dream, any second now. But the better part of him knew this was real, and that part could barely breathe from excitement and happiness. And the kiss didn’t even last that long.

Spock pulled away after a few seconds, only letting one hand linger on Jim’s upper arm before removing it too. “Jim, as you may be aware, my room is located right next to Nyota’s. Although she knows of my affections for you and in fact encouraged my disclosing them to you, It would be prudent to halt any public displays of--”

“She what?” Jim asked, bewildered.

The lift came to a halt and the doors opened. Spock took a look into the corridor before he fully stepped out of the lift and led the way to his room. As soon as the bedroom door was closed behind them, Jim forgot for a moment that he was still waiting for an answer.

“I believe, in order to give a sufficient explanation, I need to provide more context,” Spock said as they stood in the entrance area between wardrobe and bathroom.

Jim really, really wanted to kiss Spock again, but now he was curious, even more so than earlier. He could not, however, resist the urge to loosely lay both arms around Spock’s shoulders again, and, after looking into his brown eyes entirely too long, kissing Spock once more, gently and soft.  

“Okay, tell me everything then,” he said as he slowly drew back.

And Spock, too, didn’t quite want to let go off Jim either. One hand reached up to Jim’s arm, gently pulling it down to entwine their fingers. As his index and middle fingers brushed against Jim’s own, it felt like a weak electric current suddenly shot through his hand, and with it, he felt something in his mind that was very much like his own thoughts and feelings but not exactly. A warmth, a deep, lulling and soothing feeling that spread from the pit of his stomach right up to his chest, seemed to fill it with something big and cosy and just happy.

It had him gasp out in wonder, a smile forming on his parted lips as he looked from their entwined hands back into Spock’s face. “Is that you I’m feeling?”

Spock just nodded slowly, their faces still so close. He could feel warm breath ghost against his cheek, their lips just an inch or two apart. And god, how were they ever going to get any talking done that way, he thought as he gave in and kissed Spock once more, finding he didn’t care.

But Spock apparently did, breaking the kiss somewhat reluctantly, his forehead resting against Jim’s for a moment as his other hand caressed the side of Jim’s face with an overwhelming and completely surprising gentleness that Jim had not been able to imagine. Nor even knew he needed.

Their hands still clasped, Spock led Jim into the combined living and sleeping area of the room; it was a little smaller than his own quarters but still spacious, a nice queen-sized bed, a small desk and chair, and a sofa with a coffee table and an armchair. Spock stopped between the latter and the bed. “Do you wish to sit down, or…” He seemed unsure, but his gaze very briefly drifted to the bed.

Jim grinned and tugged at Spock’s hand to lead him there. “Don’t worry. I promise I can keep my hands off you while you talk. Or… well, I’ll try anyway.”

Spock just raised an eyebrow but followed.

Having kicked off his shoes, Jim had to let go of Spock’s hand, at last, waiting for the Vulcan to take off his own shoes and lie down on the bed opposite Jim, his upper body propped up with one arm bent underneath. And yeah, okay, Jim wasn’t all too sure he could keep his promise.

“Nyota’s encouragement was due to a plan I had that stood in correlation to my unfulfilled desires,” Spock started then, and it was weird, but him using the word ‘desires’ in this context made something twitch very low in Jim’s body. But yeah, he knew _those_ kinds of desires weren’t the main point here.

“Wait, what plan?” he asked as he finally got his mind out of the gutter.

There was an odd expression ghosting over Spock’s features then, and he lowered his gaze for a moment. “I had considered leaving Starfleet to join New Vulcan.”

A jab of shock shot through Jim, and he drew in a sharp breath. They had both considered leaving for the same reason. How fucking ironic was that?

“When I received the news of Ambassador Spock’s death, it was another factor that contributed to my decision. However, I realised that, while it had seemed logical at the time and while it would have provided me with the opportunity to escape my unrequited affections, the logic behind my reasoning had a few flaws,” Spock continued, and god, how Jim loved it when Spock formed perfectly structured multi-clause sentences like this one.

“What flaws were that?” he asked, his head propped on one hand and looking up to Spock. His other rested on the surface of the bed, quite close to Spock’s own, and he let his fingers slowly drift closer until Spock met them in the middle, again uniting them in that wonderful _Vulcan kiss_ that sent sparks of affection through Jim’s body.

“Seeing that my counterpart was hundred-and-thirty-two years my senior, I would not have been able to replace his experience nor role in Vulcan society. As for escaping my longings, physical distance does not work as efficiently for Vulcans as it does for humans. I would still know the sound of your voice, the lines around your eyes when you smile, the precise shade of blue of your irises. Recalling the memory of you would have reminded me of all your brilliance and courage, of every kind and admirable and sometimes foolish thing you have done in my presence, all of which have led me to cherish you in a way I could never have foreseen upon our first meeting. There would have been no escape, only suppression and the loss of opportunity to still experience your friendship and add new memories to the ones I had already treasured.”

As the warm, pleasant feelings Spock had projected through the touch of their hands had shifted, underlaid with the longing he had described, Jim could not help feeling moisture in his eyes as well as an aching in his heart that was both in sympathy for Spock and a mirror of his own experience. But above all he was completely stunned at how beautifully Spock had worded his answer, surprising Jim beyond his wildest dreams.

The only thing he could do then was to kiss Spock again, and he made sure to pour all of his affection, his sympathy and admiration into the contact. Spock must surely feel it through their fingertips, too, more vividly even, and Jim focused on that feeling, that gratitude and wonder.

“God, Spock, that was the most beautiful thing anyone's ever said to me… _about_ me,” he said hoarsely.

There was just the tiniest twitch around the corners of Spock’s mouth, an almost-there smile. “And yet, I find that words hardly suffice.”

Jim let out a small, breathy chuckle. “Yeah. I know the feeling. Damn, I’m just so fucking happy, you have no idea.”

Another subtly raised eyebrow. “I believe I do.” And Jim had to laugh.

“So… you decided to stay even before you knew I was in love with you?” he asked, torn between wanting to just kiss and touch and maybe even do more than that, and learning the full story.

Spock, who now lay mirroring Jim, his head resting on one hand, gave a small nod. “I felt that despite my not believing in divine concepts such as fate, there was a different path of Ambassador Spock’s that I should follow. A path that became clear to me once more when I found an old photograph in his belongings which were delivered to me from New Vulcan. It showed all of us, not just you and me, but also Nyota, Doctor McCoy, Misters Scott, Sulu and Chekov on the bridge of the Enterprise. I assume it’s best if I show you.”

Spock didn’t have to get up from the bed. Instead, he reached into the top drawer of his nightstand and pulled out an ornate metal case and opened it for Jim. He could only stare in wonder, seeing all of them - different but still the same, though quite a bit older.

“Wow, we were still a team in our… fifties, sixties? Jesus. That’s amazing. I hope it’ll be the same for us, all of us.”

“As do I,” Spock replied softly.

Jim smiled at him, focusing on the confidence he felt in his heart as he touched his fore and middle finger to Spock’s again.

“Then we’ll just have to make it happen.”

~*~

 

When Jim woke up it was with the warmest, cosiest feeling. Soft, pleasant tingles tiptoed over his face and neck, and there was an overall sense of feeling completely secure, happy, and loved.

Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked directly into Spock’s that were already fixed on him. His hand was drawing the tiniest, feather-light movements over his skin that had sent these warm and fuzzy tingles across it.

“Good morning,” Jim mumbled, feeling a smile on his lips, and something much stronger in the centre of his belly.

“Good morning, Jim,” Spock replied, as the gentle movements of his hand stilled and it came to rest on Jim’s shoulder.

“Have you been awake for long?”

One of Spock’s brows went up just a tiny fraction, and there was a softness in his gaze Jim could not get enough of.

“Long is a relative term,” he replied. “I find that I have not tired of watching you sleep.”

Jim had to draw in a deep breath, feeling the smile on his lips turn into a grin. “Wow, Spock. I’ve just been awake for a minute and already I’ve got butterflies in my stomach thanks to your sweet talking.”

The brow rose a little bit higher. “That does not sound healthy.”

Jim had to laugh, leaning forward and burying his face against Spock’s chest. Then, he moved a little under the covers and noticed he wasn’t wearing his pants any longer, just his briefs and the t-shirt. Spock, however, must have changed sometime during the night, wearing a black, long-sleeved pyjama top of a silky fabric that Jim found, regrettably, cladding his legs, too.

“Huh, I don’t remember taking my pants off,” he said, still a tiny bit drowsy from sleep.

“I… may have lent a hand,” Spock replied with what seemed like a mixture of bashfulness and smugness.

“Thanks. I hate sleeping with my pants on.” Although Jim probably wouldn’t have even noticed. At some point last night, he had become so tired that his eyes had just fallen shut.

They had talked for ages, how long exactly, Jim wasn’t sure, but the last time he had glimpsed the clock it had been way past two. And there had been a _lot_ to talk about. Some of the things had made Jim want to smack his forehead in frustration at how stupid he - both of them really - had been, because it seemed the entirety of the past one and a half years had just been an immense chain of misunderstandings and misinterpretations.

For example, he had found out that Spock had accidentally let his shields down at the end of their sparring match, and what Jim had felt then, believing it was all him, had been Spock’s arousal and need as much as his own. And Spock, too, had thought it had been his alone.

He had also learned that, after that first drunken kiss, Spock had briefly considered he might have a chance with Jim, only for that chance to be crushed by Jim’s explanation of having been just drunk and emotionally needy and that Spock should think nothing of it. And the list of misunderstandings had gone on from there.

Spock had also told him about his breakup with Uhura, and Jim could not deny, while being perfectly happy, no, jubilant that he and Spock were together now, that he did feel sorry and also responsible for how things ended between them. And although Spock had decided he would not keep her in the dark about the start of his and Jim’s relationship, they both agreed they’d avoid her seeing them together at all costs, at least for a while until Uhura had had enough time to get over Spock. How long that would take, Jim had no idea, not even wanting to imagine himself in her shoes for a second.

Now, however, there were other things on his mind, like kissing Spock again, and Jim was just about to do so when he realised he probably should brush his teeth first.

“Hey, um… do you have a spare toothbrush in your bathroom?” he asked after having pulled himself away from the tight contact, missing it already.

“Affirmative. Above the sink.”

“Great. I’ll be right back,” Jim said and quickly leaned in to at least give Spock a peck on the cheek before he got out of bed and went into the bathroom. A short sonic shower also might be a good idea, he thought as he sniffed his armpits. Not too bad, but… better safe than sorry.

The thought that they might want to do more than just kiss came to him then, and he felt sparks of anticipation in his lower body, grinning around the toothbrush as it cleaned his teeth with ultrasound. The mere fact that this was a possibility alone still made him wonder whether he had died and gone to heaven, or some malicious aliens were playing tricks on his mind. He was being ridiculous.

After his shower, he was about to get back into his underpants and t-shirt, but an idea made him grin to himself, and so he emerged the bathroom naked safe for a towel he had wrapped around his hips. His flirtiest, most mischievous smirk on his lips and curious how Spock would react, he casually leant against the entrance to the sleeping area.

“Squeaky clean,” he said and saw Spock’s eyes widen for a moment.

“Good,” Spock replied, his voice unmistakably hoarser than before. He subtly cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter on the bed.

“So, I was thinking,” Jim started as he came closer towards the bed with deliberately slow steps. “Should we go and have breakfast somewhere?” He let himself all but fall onto the mattress, propped up on his side on one elbow. Spock’s eyes were _everywhere_.

“If you are hungry,” he replied, an audible tension in his tone now. Oh, this was good. But cruel.

Jim let out a soft laugh and shook his head, deciding to end the charade here. He laid down on his back, face turned towards Spock. “Nah. I think I can hold out a while longer. Besides, there’s always the replicator.”

It was obviously enough to make Spock abandon his restraint. One hand reaching around Jim’s middle, he pulled himself close, and a second later he sealed Jim’s mouth with his own, the contact only gentle for about a second before he deepened it and kissed Jim hungrily. And _shit_ , this was simply and utterly breathtaking. Jim would have liked to feel more of Spock’s skin, but the soft, silky fabric of his pyjamas against his chest felt cool and wonderful, too. And while Spock sucked on Jim’s bottom lip, only to let his tongue run along the upper one a moment later, he also reached out for Jim’s hand again. Palm against palm, very softly at first, their hands touched, and Jim could already feel those amazing little sparks of electricity shooting into his hand and up. Then, a feeling that he now clearly recognised as not his own, made him gasp breathlessly into the kiss. Hunger, arousal and want so strong he felt himself harden under the towel already.

“Hmmm, I like that you have the same thing in mind as I,” Jim said softly around a smile, gazing up at Spock.

The look on the Vulcan’s face was another first for Jim, lips parted slightly, brow furrowed and pupils wide with desire. For a brief moment, he closed his eyes, then brought his lips to Jim’s again, but only briefly, before he leaned back up.

“Jim, there are two things you should know before we proceed.”

Jim raised his own brows now, not quite knowing what to make of this and whether he’d like the direction it was going. But Spock seemed to have felt his worry through the touch of their fingers, and he took his other hand to run a soothing caress over Jim’s forehead and cheek. Then he settled down next to Jim, on his side.

“Okay, tell me then,” Jim said, trying to remain (and appear) confident.

Spock seemed to need a moment to consider his words, and his gaze drifted to the surface of the bed. “You are familiar with the concept of Vulcan mind melds,” he started, looking back up, and Jim nodded. “Since we have already performed a similar but much weaker telepathic connection, you may find it easy to imagine that a full mind meld is desirable to Vulcans when they share an intimate relationship.”

Oh, so that’s where Spock was going. “You want to do a mind meld with me during sex?”

Jim wasn’t sure, but he could have sworn there was the faintest hint of a blush on Spock’s cheeks then. “It is desirable. However--”

“I’m all for it!” Jim interrupted, not wanting Spock to feel insecure about it in the slightest and thinking the prospect sounded damn arousing.

Spock’s left brow went up, his head tilted a fraction, as he gave Jim an ‘I wasn’t finished yet’ look.

He gave him an apologetic shrug and nodded for Spock to go on.

“However, there are certain risks. A mind meld is a strong telepathic connection. During moments of emotional abandon, it is not always possible to maintain one’s shields. Therefore, the connection can but does not necessarily have to go deeper than intended.”

He did pause now, and Jim was sure he could raise a question. “So what happens then, if it goes deeper than you wanted?”

“A more permanent bond could form spontaneously between the two persons engaging in the mind meld. It is very rare, and nothing I have personally experienced; in fact, I didn’t see it as a possibility before, but…” He paused and looked at Jim, an expression on his features that Jim could not describe with words but could also not draw his eyes from. Made him feel like he was the most wondrous and amazing being in Spock’s eyes. Made the breath hitch in his throat. “I believe, in this case, it may be,” Spock concluded softly, and when Jim’s mind wrapped itself around what that meant, exactly, he was sure to have melted into a puddle of goo.

Even though their fingers didn’t touch, Spock seemed to be aware of the effect his words had, and he lowered his gaze, something slightly bashful on his face now, before he took a slightly deeper breath and continued. “It is therefore crucial that you understand this and inform me whether it is a risk you wish to avoid.”

Jim caught himself and tried to focus. “So… What exactly do you mean by permanent bond? Like… a permanent telepathic connection?”

“Precisely,” Spock replied. “I do know that my parents shared such a bond, therefore it is evidently possible to achieve between a Vulcan and non-Vulcan partner. However, such a connection means that one… that you would have to train yourself in controlling the bond as well as maintaining your shields if you do not wish to constantly project thoughts. I would be able to compensate for it by not invading your thoughts unless explicitly invited, but I do understand that relying completely on my side might not be an ideal scenario for you.”

Jim thought about this for a moment, but then he softly shook his head. “No, I mean… I trust you, Spock. If there’s one person I know who wouldn’t abuse such an insight into my mind, it’s you. So… that doesn’t really sound very scary. And you say it doesn’t always happen anyway.” But maybe they were special. Maybe it would happen between them, Jim couldn’t help thinking, having to bite his lip around the excited grin that wanted to spread.

Spock nodded. “That is not all to it. A bond between two minds is, as I have said, permanent. There are ways to sever it, but it is said to be highly unpleasant, even traumatic and only done under rare circumstances, for instance, if one partner decides to undergo Kolinahr. Which,” Spock quickly added as he saw the brief worry flicker over Jim’s face, “is not something I expect to ever wish to do.”

“Okay… so you’re saying that, once such a bond is formed, there’s usually no going back.”

“That is correct,” Spock ended, looking at Jim with gentle patience and giving him time to mull it over.

He found he wanted to think about this out loud - and wasn’t that a bit like sharing a telepathic bond already? “Okay, so the bond would be pretty permanent, and it would mean we’d be able to share thoughts unless we block it out. But we could like… talk dirty in our heads while on the bridge?”

He could see Spock barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes and raise an eyebrow at Jim instead, who grinned sheepishly.

“Okay, not the point, I know. The point is that it’s not something you’d enter lightly. A bit like… like marriage?”

“It is what is done, initiated by a Vulcan high priestess or priest, when two Vulcans are joined officially and legally, yes. Usually, when Vulcan children are betrothed to another, a more rudimentary bond is already formed so that they can feel when the need to solidify the bond arises for either party.”

And that really blew Jim’s mind a bit. He had, of course, heard that arranged marriages were still a thing in Vulcan society - probably because so many chose their partners for purely logical reasons anyway, so why not trust your parents’ expertise and decision? But the thought that all of this, getting to know each other, falling in love and actually choosing each other was usually not in the book for Vulcans, was hard to wrap his mind around.

“Wait, were you betrothed to someone as a kid?”

“I was, but she did not survive the destruction of Vulcan,” Spock said without regret but with sympathy evident in his gaze and tone. “However, I do believe she would not have intended to establish a full bond with me. She did not approve of her parents’ choice and saw me as a flawed candidate due to my human mother.”

While Jim should be glad the whole thing never worked out, the reason for it made him somewhat angry. How could anyone not want Spock based solely on his parentage? It was outrageous.

“Okay, back to you and me,” he said then, deciding to focus on the positive things. “If you did a mind meld with me during sex, it’s possible a bond would form spontaneously. And if that happens, it’s kinda like accidental marriage, and a divorce would be even more painful than it already is for humans.”

“That is rather oversimplifying matters, but--”

“I know. I’m just thinking out loud,” Jim interrupted him. Then he took a deep breath and looked at Spock with a warm, sincere smile on his lips. “I somehow cannot see a flaw in that, you know? I mean we’ve been friends for years now, and I’ve been, no, I’ve _known_ that I’m in love with you for so long now.” He felt the smile turn into a somewhat mischievous smirk. “So, unless you’re really bad between the sheets I don’t see that changing anytime soon.”

“I shall endeavour to prove to you that I’m not,” Spock said, not free from a trace of mildly exasperated amusement, and the prospect sent a shiver of arousal to Jim’s crotch. “However, there is a second matter I wish to disclose, and it is in relation to the previous.”

“Okay, just gonna keep my mouth shut until you’re done then,” Jim vowed, pretending to zip his lips.

“Thank you,” Spock said, and Jim had to suppress a giggle. “As I said before, there comes a time when one betrothed calls to the other through their rudimentary bond. That time is something we usually do not share with outsiders. But since you would be directly affected by it, you shall know it.” Spock breathed in slightly more deeper than before, and Jim could sense that there was something like shame or anxiousness in him.

“Can I just say one thing?”

“You’ll find that you can,” Spock replied, not quite as exasperated as earlier now.

Jim slid a bit closer again and laid an arm around Spock’s middle, drawing soothing circles across the small of his back. “I don’t think there’s anything you can tell me that’d truly put me off, Spock, and I mean it. I really, really want to be with you, more than I’ve ever wanted to be with anybody in my whole life. I’m really, deeply…,” he leaned in to brush a soft kiss against Spock’s temple. “Madly in love with you. So there’s that.”

“You display a remarkable amount of trust and optimism, considering there is an infinite number of things I could intend to tell you.”

Jim smiled widely at that. “Yep, that’s me. Always the optimist. And now I’ll let you get to the point.”

“Very well. The time I speak of has an ancient name in our culture, as it goes back millennia, to a time before we chose logic over emotions and instincts. What I speak of is called Pon Farr - the time for mating. While that may sound simple or even trite at first, it is a complex and very private matter. During Pon Farr, the need to mate must be met, or else the chemical imbalance caused by the phenomenon will drive one into insanity. It is not just the purely physical aspect of the matter, however, that needs to or should be satisfied in this instance. A Vulcan’s first Pon Farr is when the previous bond is enforced or, should there have been none, a new permanent one has to be formed.”

Again, Jim needed a moment to let everything sink in and try to understand it, knowing no equivalent to what Spock had described from his own culture. However, after a moment of consideration, he did not find the concept threatening at all.

“Well, I’ve already told you I don’t mind if a bond forms between us _accidentally_. So I wouldn’t mind doing it intentionally to save your sanity, either.”

“You do not yet fully understand,” Spock said, and now it was clear that whatever he was feeling at having to speak about this was, in the very least, very close to shame. “Pon Farr is not simply a need to exchange physical intimacies and form a bond. It is… a time in which most logic abandons us, in which we revert to the beings we were before the reformation. Controlled by instinct and… raw need.”

“I think _you_ don’t fully understand,” Jim managed to get out, feeling his breath having gotten faster and heavier, a tingling now in all of his lower body and down his spine. “That doesn’t sound like a nuisance but a bonus.”

It was a subtle thing, but there was definitely a hint of something Jim would have described as ‘raw need’ in the way Spock’s eyes went from his eyes to his mouth, and the speed in which he leaned in and covered it with his own. He could feel it even stronger when Spock brought his fingertips to Jim’s again, making him release a stuttered sigh into the intense kiss.

“Jesus, Spock, you’re such an amazing kisser,” Jim said, breathless as Spock’s lips had abandoned his and travelled over the line of his jaw, down his neck. Each contact sent another round of tingling shivers down his spine and straight to his groin, and although Jim could have enjoyed Spock kissing him for hours, he definitely wanted more and soon.

How many evenings had he laid in his bed, fantasising about what this would be like (and feeling guilty about it later, at the next instance he saw Spock again)? But his mind had only conjured up images and sensations that he had already experienced with other partners, and the fantasy was falling woefully short in comparison to the real deal. Finally, he’d get to experience what he had only dreamed of before.

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, finally, huh? ^^ The scene I assume most of you have been waiting for for ages.   
> I don't want to keep you very long, but a brief note on some of the details. A while ago, I stumbled over an LJ post by a gay guy commenting on how women write gay erotica, and he cleared up some misconceptions. That article has impacted how I write certain things. I guess it's worth noting because my beta was rather confused at one aspect.  
> The post is [here](https://reverie-indigo.livejournal.com/5686.html). It's really an interesting read. 
> 
> There's an epilogue after this one, and then that's the end. Kinda sad this is almost over now. It's been fun reading your comments every week (and uuuugh yeah, sorry, I still haven't replied individually. It's so much now that I haven't found the energy yet to do it all. I should, and I will. So again, a HUGE thank you for all those lovely, lovely comments!!!!)

 

Spock’s breath was going a little faster now, humming and vibrating against Jim’s skin when he let his lips wander lower. One knee slid between Jim’s, and the warmth of the body against his made Jim - more automatically than consciously - push his hips up to create at least a little bit of pressure and friction.

“You need to get out of those clothes,” he breathed, one hand at the base of Spock’s neck, and a second later, Jim gasped in surprise as Spock’s tongue flicked against his right nipple. It had been just two, three minutes tops, and Jim was already painfully hard.

But then, just pressing one more kiss to Jim’s chest, the contact of his body was gone and Spock got up, and Jim was pretty sure he was pouting, feeling a bit cold all of the sudden despite the room temperature being rather high. “Where are you going?”

Spock looked back down at Jim, one eyebrow going up a fraction. “To ‘get out of those clothes’,” he replied, and Jim had to chuckle at that. He could have helped with that…

Spock pulled the pyjama top over his head and, with more care than Jim would have applied, folded it once vertically and laid it over the desk chair. His chest and back were lean, with well-defined muscles in perfect proportions, dark hair on his chest, and Jim had to take a moment to take him in, wondering, how in all of the universe, he could have been so lucky to be with someone who didn’t just have the most beautiful, fascinating and amazing personality but also looked so damn fucking gorgeous, head to--

“Wait,” he said quickly as Spock reached for the waistband of his pyjama bottoms. “Let me.”

He sat up on the bed as Spock came closer again. Their gazes were locked, and Jim reached for Spock’s waist, letting his fingertips run gently over his skin, an inch or so above the pyjamas. He could see Spock inhale more deeply through his nose, and his eyelids fluttered ever so slightly as Jim continued the light touches for a moment longer, his thumb now going over the thin trail of hair leading down from Spock’s navel, proving that Vulcans could get goosebumps, too. It made Jim smile.

Then, at last, he took the waistband and pulled it down, slowly but deliberately, letting the pyjama bottoms fall to the floor, and he could not keep his gaze on Spock’s face any longer.

Between the V-shape of his lower abdominal muscles, the dark trail of hair grew wider, and it was as beautifully unruly as Spock’s head hair was neat. His cock was still flaccid, evenly shaped and straight, and maybe a tiny bit on the smaller side, at least as of now. Jim’s thumbs were resting on either side of Spock’s hips, and he let them wander towards the middle, gently raking through the wavy hair. It made Spock’s cock twitch slightly, and Jim had to grin again as he looked back up into Spock’s eyes, trying to figure out what he wanted.

Before he could formulate that question, however, Spock’s hand reached for the side of his face, fingertips brushing over his skin and through his hair in such a light, tender touch that it made Jim close his eyes instinctively, letting out a long, low breath. It truly was amazing how such small touches could affect him this strongly.

“God, I really want you right now,” Jim breathed out and pulled Spock closer by the hips, torn between wanting to take him into his mouth, show him nice and slow just how much he desired him, and wanting to pull Spock above him and be fucked into the mattress hard and fast. As a compromise, he brushed hot, open-mouthed kisses against Spock’s stomach and dug the fingers of one hand into Spock’s buttocks, the other coming around his cock, stroking it with firm, deliberate movements.

Spock let out a small, breathy gasp and dug his fingertips into the back of Jim’s scalp. “I… want you as well.”

“Then have me,” Jim replied as he reluctantly tore himself from Spock and laid back onto the mattress. He’d have liked to say ‘fuck me’, but was unsure whether it might have been a turn-off for Spock. So far, he’d never much cared for profanity. “Shit.” _Oops._ “We need lube. Do you--”

But Spock was already reaching into one of the drawers of the nightstand, taking out a small cylindrical container and tilting his head, one eyebrow raised in a ‘there you go’ gesture.

Jim grinned. “I doubt Yorktown randomly provides lube for all their rooms. Didn’t find any in mine. The replicator?”

“Obviously,” Spock replied and then, as he knelt on the bed beside Jim, added, “I saw the possibility for our activities to cause need for a lubricant, so I replicated it while you were asleep.”

“Mmh, I like the way you think,” Jim said and leant up, one arm slung around Spock’s shoulder as he pulled him in for a kiss. It was slow this time, the need Jim was still feeling pushed into the back of his mind for a moment just to enjoy the anticipation. But then, Jim felt impatience rise in him, and he pushed himself up against Spock’s body, the damn towel still between them before he reached down and pulled it off. And finally, fucking finally, he felt their naked bodies touching completely, felt Spock’s pubic hair brush against his thigh, and his own cock, still hard, rub against Spock’s hip.  

“Jim,” Spock said softly. “Seeing our striking history of misunderstandings, may I inquire whether I have interpreted your intentions correctly.”

Jim was already nodding while Spock was still speaking. “Yeah, you have. I want you to…” He made a small waving motion with his hand.

“Jim, do not hold back the things you actually wish to say on my account,” Spock said before he leaned in and covered Jim’s neck, his collarbone and upper chest with kisses, and Jim groaned out in delight.

“I want you to fuck me, Spock. God, I’ve been wanting this for so long.”

Jim had been wrong to think it would put Spock off if he talked dirty. If at all, it seemed to spur him on. The kisses grew more frantic, small groans hummed out hotly against his skin as Spock’s mouth travelled lower and lower, and Jim was once more torn, this time between wanting to press his eyes shut and fight for at least a bit of control, and keep his eyes wide open to follow every one of Spock’s movements.

It took just a few more kisses, a few more seconds before Spock, just taking a very short moment to look at Jim’s cock, brushed a kiss against its base. Then another, slightly higher, one more, and then…

Jim let out a soft whimper as Spock’s lips closed around him, and holy fuck, did that feel amazing. For a brief moment, just when Spock’s tongue pressed against the underside, creating just the perfect amount of pressure, Jim wondered how on earth Spock could be so good at this because he’d never done this before, had he? But he was a Vulcan after all, and if there was one thing Vulcans excelled in, it was learning and perfecting things through observation. And wasn’t he lucky?

Spock took him into his mouth a little deeper, one hand around his base before he sucked up the entire length, and it sent tingling shivers and waves of pressure through Jim’s lower body, speeding up his breath and making his heart flutter, and--

“Spock, stop. Stop!”

Spock did let go off him instantly and looked at Jim, confusion and a hint of worry on his features.

Jim gave him a soft grin. “I’m gonna come like a teenage virgin if you keep this up for just a second longer,” he said. It was only a mild exaggeration. “Come here.”

As Jim reached for the lube on the nightstand, Spock crawled back up, now half leant above him. Jim took a generous amount of lube onto his fingers and then reached down to wrap them around Spock’s cock, at the same time leaning up to kiss him. Spock kissed him back eagerly, a small sigh caught by Jim’s lips as he spread the lube on him, feeling him grow to hardness in his hand, and woah, he definitely was a grower then, from the feel of it not _too_ big but definitely a good, perfect size.

“Will you not require additional preparation?” he asked as he broke the kiss, his voice lower now, slightly hoarse with pleasure. His cock twitched in anticipation in Jim’s hand.

“Nah, I’m gonna be good,” he replied, too impatient to waste any more time. “Just go slow. Give me a moment to adjust before you start to move.”

Spock nodded, and now there was something on his face that Jim could only interpret as mild nervousness. It made his heart swell with a deep feeling of affection, and he leant up once more to gently, slowly kiss Spock and show him just how much he adored and appreciated him.

Then, one hand on Spock’s shoulder and the other between their bodies as he spread his legs and pulled his knees up, he slowly guided Spock into the right position, and a moment later, he felt the slick head of his cock push against him. Jim breathed in deeply and closed his eyes for a moment, willing himself to relax, and then, finally, he felt Spock very slowly and carefully enter him.

“Jesus,” he breathed out. There was just the tiniest bit of discomfort at first, a stretching feeling that stung a bit, but that wasn’t what made his heart thump harder and his breathing speed up. It was an almost indescribable feeling of excitement, because this was finally happening. This was really, _really_ happening, and Jim had to press his eyes shut, trying to control his breath.

“Are you alright?” Spock asked softly, and Jim almost had to laugh at that. He definitely was more than alright.

“Just give me a second,” he replied, breathing slow and deep until the mild discomfort faded.

As he opened his eyes, his hands reached up to Spock’s upper arms, and he pulled him closer to urge him to go deeper. And Spock seemed so careful, studying Jim’s face with slightly furrowed brows, patiently waiting until Jim gave him a minuscule nod and a small, open-mouthed smile as he breathed out, slow. Then, Spock was buried in him to the hilt, and Jim wrapped his arms around his shoulders tightly, hugging Spock’s torso with his legs, pulling him close, so close that he could feel his own cock push hard against Spock’s belly. He kissed Spock deeply, as he felt himself finally relax.

It had been a while since he’d last done this with anybody, and although he had had no reason to complain, the whole encounter had been completely different. More rushed, a bit more painful, but also fueled by a little too much alcohol and a very primal need to just get fucked, quick, hard and dirty. And while he wasn’t against repeating something like that with Spock, at some point in the future - he remembered what Spock had told him about Pon Farr - this, now, the gentle care in Spock’s touches and his every movement, the need to find release as much as deepen a connection between them in every way possible, this was so much better, much more amazing and breathtaking than any one night stand or brief affair could ever have been.

As Spock began to move slowly, pulling back but not completely out, then pushing back in, Jim felt a pleasure grow in him that wasn’t solely reduced to his lower body. He felt it somewhere higher, too, that warm, swelling feeling in his chest he’d felt before, something that filled his heart and mind, made him want to get closer to Spock and bury his face at his neck, and at the same time take all the effort to keep looking at him and not miss a single moment. No crease between his eyebrows, no gaze going faster between Jim’s own eyes and his mouth, no lips parted in a soundless sigh of pleasure. Spock looked so beautiful like that, felt so amazing above him and _in_ him that Jim could not imagine anything in the whole wide universe to ever compare.

Eventually, as he automatically urged Spock to speed up his thrusts by meeting him in the middle and wrapping his arms and legs around him even tighter, Jim leaned back up again to kiss Spock, now open-mouthed between deeper, slightly panted breaths. And bit by bit, they found a rhythm that just kept him perfectly on the edge of being aroused and not needing to give in to it too soon. Because this was just too damn perfect for it to be over in just five minutes, and Spock seemed to share the sentiment.

“God, you feel so good inside me,” Jim breathed against Spock’s cheek after a while, and it was, surprisingly, like switching on a button. Spock let out a sound that was almost a whimper, and his hips jerked forward a bit harder, hitting something in Jim that caused small waves of pleasure and tightness to spread to his cock.

“Mmmh, Spock,” he moaned softly, close to his ear now before his tongue darted out and ran along the edge of it. And that worked like a charm, too. Another sound, a rather deep and throaty one this time, escaped Spock, and his next thrust was even harder, deeper, having Jim gasp with pleasure.

“God, yes, harder, Spock. Fuck me harder.”

And he did, pulling out almost completely now before he thrust back in so vigorously that it made Jim cry out hoarsely. It was just so the right side of painful, letting pressure spread in his lower body at every thrust that followed.

Spock’s breath had sped up so much now that Jim was sure he was getting really close. Jim, on the other hand, wasn’t quite there yet. While he felt fucking amazing he still needed something more. One of his hands reached between their bodies, and he wanted to wrap it around his own cock when Spock suddenly took it and halted its movement.

“Allow me,” he breathed, his voice so low and raspy that Jim wondered when he’d ever heard anything so utterly hot.

He already felt the slight shift of position, and Spock’s fingers around him, when a different idea occurred to Jim. “Wait.”

Spock looked at him and stopped moving.

“Do the mind meld with me.”

“Are you certain?” Spock asked carefully, and Jim nodded, feeling his heartbeat pick up in excitement.

“Yeah. Do it, Spock.”

Spock nodded slowly but did not bring his hand up to Jim’s face yet. Instead, he leaned in to brush a kiss against his lips, his cheek, his jaw, and he started moving again slowly. Then his hand came up, fingertips running over Jim’s arm and shoulder at first. Unlike during other of Spock’s touches, Jim felt those electric tingles again, felt something that came from Spock and not himself: arousal, excitement, a hint of nervousness, and above all else something so intense and warm and positive that it left no doubt of what it was.

Spock hit Jim’s prostate again with another thrust, and the sparks of pleasure that had subsided somewhat returned full force. Jim moaned low in the back of his throat, and then, a moment later, Spock’s fingers were on the three points on his face, and Jim felt like he was sucked into an abyss of emotion and sensation. It was the most overwhelming feeling, something so alien, even though he had done it once before. But then, the meld had served a completely different purpose. The images that had been projected into his mind had told a story and made him feel and know its context as if he had experienced it himself.

This time, however, there were no images at first. Just that feeling again, same as he’d already felt it through the touch of Spock’s fingers before, but at least ten times stronger. He could feel the pressure and tension in his… _Spock’s_ lower body, could feel something beat so rapidly on the right side of his chest that he thought it might burst, but he felt no concern about it. He felt himself surrounded by tightness and heat, felt each thrust into the welcoming body. And then, as the blanket of fuzzy warmth lifted in front of his inner eye, he saw, saw himself lying underneath him, lips parted in pleasure, swollen and red from so many kisses, eyes half-lidded and cheeks flushed, hair tousled. It was the most peculiar thing, completely different than looking into a mirror or seeing himself on video. He didn’t just see himself, visually, but he felt what Spock felt when he looked at Jim, felt something similar yet completely different in his ribcage, and more, in his mind. Something deep and indomitable, stronger than any other feeling he’d ever known. Better than not feeling, more precious and true than denying and controlling. Something unique and perfect and sublime.

“I love you too,” he found himself saying, not fully sure he’d done so verbally or only in their connected minds, but it didn’t matter.

The connection was still there, but Spock withdrew it a little, and Jim was back, fully aware of his own body. The pressure he had felt starting to built now went deep to his thighs, and each thrust made it grow stronger and stronger. There was still that wave of sensation coming from Spock, every aspect that he felt physically. Then, quite suddenly, the tension found its peak in both of them, leaving Jim feeling like he - and Spock, too - couldn’t breathe for a moment; a deep pull from his groin, around him, in him, spreading through him, through _them_ like a high wave that suddenly broke. Jim let out a small cry, heard it echoed in a slightly lower, deeper sound from Spock as the movements of their bodies slowly stilled and all that was left was the sound of their heavy breathing and the feeling of both their hearts beating fast.

Spock’s fingers were still on Jim’s face, but he could not distinguish any concrete thought or feeling. It had all become a mushy, pleasant jumble of warm bliss and exhaustion. Then, that feeling subsided, too, and Spock’s fingers slipped from his face. He missed the feeling already but was somewhat glad to be back in his own mind, too, feeling a little too overwhelmed by all of it.

He was hardly aware of Spock pulling out carefully, still trying to catch his breath. When Spock slid to his side, Jim felt how slick his body was with sweat and semen, sticky against his stomach, but he couldn’t care less.

“Jesus Christ,” he finally got out as his breath had calmed somewhat. He didn’t feel like he’d be able to move any time soon other than turning his head to look at Spock who was now propped on one arm next to him.

There was a soft expression on his features, something almost like a serene smile, just more subtle than it would have been in a human. Then, one eyebrow went up slowly. “I was not aware you were such a religious man.”

Jim was still so out of it that it took him a second or two to follow, and he had to let out a small, low laugh. “Yeah, uh… You probably kept count of how many times I’ve said ‘god’ or something similar.”

Spock inclined his head a fraction. “It was impossible to miss.”

Jim finally did manage to move, and it was to take one of Spock’s hands into his, turning towards him a bit more so that they were laid on their sides, facing one another. “I meant to express how amazing this has been. But you already know that.” Nevertheless, it still felt good saying it, and maybe Spock appreciated hearing it, too.

“I do share your sentiment, Jim,” he said. “I found it most pleasurable.”

Compared to what Jim had just felt - and not just himself but through Spock’s mind as well - pleasurable hardly covered it, but that was okay. He didn’t need Spock to find colourful expressions and superlatives to describe how he’d felt. Jim had seen and felt it all.

“Part of me still can’t believe it,” he said then, smiling. “It’s like not even twenty-four hours ago I was living a completely different life.”

Spock’s brow went up as he regarded Jim. “Hardly. Most aspects of your life remain the same.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Thank you, Mister literal,” he teased as he gently entwined their fingers a bit more.

“I was not finished,” Spock cut in, letting his thumb run over the back of Jim’s hand in a soft circle.

“Oh?”

“Illogical as it may be, I do feel the same way.”

Something warm and fuzzy tugged at Jim’s heart again, and he leaned in once more to kiss Spock, tenderly and languidly for just a few moments.

Then, something growled low in the pit of his stomach, and Jim broke the kiss with a sheepish grin. “How about we get cleaned up and then have some breakfast?”

“I’m amenable to your suggestion,” Spock replied, yet not making any effort to get up.

“In bed!” Jim added then, deciding it should be he to finally break their contact and at least sit up. To actually get up, he needed another minute or two. “We’re not leaving this room today unless we have to. I definitely want another round.”

“A very sound proposal,” Spock said dryly but with a subtly raised eyebrow. And God, did Jim love Spock for it. For his dry humour, his way with words, his unwavering moral compass, his courage, his intelligence and knowledge. For everything that he was and so much more that Jim had yet to discover.

And he’d be able to do so every day, from this moment on.

 


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is it. The conclusion to this fic, more than half a year after I started writing it. It feels both good and a bit sad to finish posting it.   
> I've had such a great time reading all your feedback every week (and yes, I still need to reply to quite a few comments, so, so sorry! Last week was a bit draining with a heatwave here in Germany and lots of work). It was a fantastic journey with you all, but special thanks go to my beta-reader Tati who has put a lot of effort into helping me improve this fic and posting the best result I could give you. <3
> 
> I hope you like this little epilogue. Who knows, maybe I'll write some more stuff in this verse. Though I'm not sure it'd be primarily Spirk, since there's another pairing that's sprung from this in my mind. I wonder if you can guess. :-)
> 
> Anyway, without further ado... enjoy, and thank you all!!! <3

 

**Epilogue**

_Stardate 2264.04_

 

Jim let out a content sigh and rolled over on the bed, slowly blinking his eyes open. He looked around the room, finding Spock in an armchair, a PADD in hands but his gaze resting on Jim. 

“Mmh, I had such a nice dream,” Jim said, stretching and slowly sitting up on the bed. “It involved you lying next to me on the bed, naked.” 

Spock just raised an eyebrow at him. “You have declared to having had dreams of an erotic nature after eighty-one-point-eight per cent of your afternoon naps, while you rarely mention any similar dreams after your night’s rest. Fascinating.” 

Jim had to chuckle at that and stretched some more before he got off the bed. He could feel the amusement radiating off of Spock, somewhere at the edge of Jim’s consciousness, and it made the smile on his lips grow wider before he leaned down and pressed them gently to Spock’s cheek. 

“Why don’t you try and make my dreams come true?” He made sure to project a mild feeling of want and was delighted to hear a barely audible sigh from Spock. 

“Because your birthday celebration is scheduled to begin in forty-three minutes.”

“Well,” Jim shrugged, “There’s a lot we can do in forty-three minutes.” 

He felt a hint of exasperation mingled with a yearning similar to his own coming from Spock before the feeling was withdrawn and Spock’s mental shields went back up. Jim gave him a small pout and slumped down in the other armchair, reaching for his own PADD, but not really in the mood to answer any messages right now. 

It still amazed him every day how he could feel Spock now, his presence always there in the back of Jim’s mind, and even while he was shielded like now, all Jim had to do was reach out, and Spock would answer, let him in and share a feeling of warmth and belonging he could no longer imagine living without. 

It had happened as Spock had said it might: completely unintentionally, one day while they made love. It had been like silver tendrils of Spock’s consciousness weaving themselves into Jim’s mind, as if their synapses were somehow connected despite not physically touching - like a neural wireless, Jim had tried to describe it, and Spock had chided him for trivialising this profound and sacred bond. But Jim also knew that Spock loved him for being an illogical, often ridiculous human; he had felt it much more, been able to understand it on a deeper level ever since the bond had formed, about three months ago. 

They had seen a Vulcan healer at the earliest opportunity, just to make sure there was no damage, mainly to Jim’s mind. But the healer, upon having examined both their minds at once, had let his truly stoic demeanour slip with a facial expression of surprise, declaring that spontaneous bonds were very rare and that he’d never seen one forming so solidly, least of all between members of two different species. Jim had said that was because he was awesome, but Spock had tried to find another, more logical explanation in the fact that he, himself, was half-human and therefore probably more receptive to emotional connections than a full Vulcan. And that did make sense. 

Jim had also learned - because Spock had not hidden it from him sufficiently - that there was still sometimes a sense of shame in him, of feeling inadequate as a Vulcan, but every time Jim gently probed for that feeling, he found it becoming less and less intense. 

They both still had their insecurities, their emotional baggage due to things that had affected them in their childhood and later life, and that was okay. Nobody was truly perfect and free from any doubts, regrets or issues. It also made it a lot easier for Jim to accept his own weaknesses, knowing that even someone like Spock had his own, too. 

“I wonder if I’m getting any cool presents,” Jim said, letting his PADD rest on his lap. Spock, however, merely raised an eyebrow and betrayed no thoughts, his shields very firmly up now, and Jim made a point of pouting rather spectacularly. 

Shields were a thing Jim was still getting used to. Spock had spent a lot of time trying to teach him how to maintain them, how to keep thoughts and emotions hidden if he didn’t deliberately share them. At first, Jim had thought he couldn’t do it, but bit by bit, he’d figured it out. It was mostly a bonus to Spock’s sanity because he didn’t have to take the effort to constantly block out the jumble of thought invading his own mind through Jim’s. 

A few weeks ago, before Jim had perfected his technique and while Spock had let him practice by not blocking him, a rather unfortunate set of circumstances had led to their first proper argument, when Jim had seen a woman who had come on board the Enterprise with a delegation from a planet that had recently made first contact with the Federation. She’d been extremely attractive, and for a second, not thinking about what he was thinking, he thought ‘yeah, I’d tap that.’ 

It had taken first a very loud and verbal fight and then, after almost twenty-four hours of silence between them, a very long talk about sexual attraction in humans and how it did not mean you were unhappy and unfulfilled in your current relationship. The worst part of the whole fight had been - after Jim had finally gotten his head out of his own ass - seeing and _feeling_ Spock genuinely hurt. And Jim had spent days afterwards making up for it by constantly telling Spock, both verbally and telepathically, how hot and sexy and amazing he was, and how much Jim wanted him and only him. 

In hindsight, Jim was glad it had happened, because successfully getting through a serious fight was a big milestone in a relationship, and it truly felt now like there was nothing they couldn’t overcome. 

Whatever Spock had been doing on his PADD, he finally seemed to be done, setting it aside and looking back at Jim, and his shields opened just a fraction to let something warm and affectionate float to his mind. 

“Next year there’ll be no work on my birthday. We’ll just spend the day in bed. Sulu can be captain for a day.” 

Exasperated amusement was the emotion Spock most often shared, and it was present through the bond this time, too. 

“Seeing that we cannot know what our mission will be one year from now, we cannot make such plans.” 

Jim let out a rather theatrical sigh and got back up from the armchair, feeling like he needed to move his legs after the nap. He went over to the sideboard where their chess set stood and next to it a small box with two of the items Spock had obtained from his elder counterpart. “Fine then, we’ll take it as it comes. But if we’re not on some important mission, we’ll spend the whole day together. Deal?” 

He briefly looked back at Spock who titled his head before he answered: “Deal.” 

“Great,” Jim smiled and turned back to the items. He had looked at the picture many times already, but what truly blew his mind was the pocket watch. He opened it and, although having done so many times before as well, reread the dedication. It made him shake his head in awe at the fact that, even across universes, he and Spock had been together, and that fate or whatever else you wanted to call it - even if Jim usually did not believe in such things - had led them to each other despite completely different circumstances. 

He heard Spock shift in his seat and get up, and a moment later, Jim felt warm hands on either side of his shoulders, warm breath ghosting along his neck. “I have something that I wish to gift you with.”

“Oh, I’m finally getting my present,” Jim said, grinning as he turned around in Spock’s arms. He’d been racking his mind what Spock could give him, because all that shielding today? Yeah, it had to be something good. 

Spock’s gaze looked serious when it locked with Jim’s. The smallest crease formed between Spock’s eyebrows, and he took a small step back, just holding one of Jim’s hand in his own now. All Jim could feel was affection floating towards him. 

“In part, it is a gift to me as much as to you, or maybe more,” Spock started, and Jim looked at him a little confused. “Jim, you do know the meaning of bonds as the one we share in Vulcan culture.” 

“Yeah, they’re pretty much like-- Oh.” He felt like his heart was nearly jumping out of his chest with an excitement he could not have hidden from Spock if he had wanted to. 

It caused the tiniest of smiles to form on the Vulcan’s lips. “It happened by accident which we both welcomed. However, I wish to declare myself to you officially and legally.” He paused to reach into the pocket of his trousers; Jim could not say a word. “Seeing as you are fully and I am half human, and as we already share a Vulcan bond, I believed the human way to be appropriate.” 

In the small black case he had taken out of his pocket, now opened in front of Jim, there was a simple and elegant brushed silver ring. Jim was still left speechless, a myriad of thoughts going through his mind and a wonderful, warm and elated feeling engulfing his heart. 

“There is an engraving,” Spock said, the mildest hint of nervousness lost as Jim let go off his hand and reached for the ring, holding it up to read the fine lettering on the inside, engraved in two rows. 

_All truths are easy to understand once they are discovered; the point is to discover them._

“Galileo Galilei?” he asked, not completely sure he remembered it correctly, but Spock nodded. 

Jim read the line again. Though obviously less romantic than what most humans would have picked, it was very, _very_ fitting. 

“God, Spock,” he got out, breathily and smiling. 

“I do understand you enjoy the aesthetic of the ring,” Spock said, one brow slightly raised. “However, you have not stated whether--”

“Yes, Spock,” he interrupted him. “God, yes, of course I’ll marry you!” 

That barely-there smile on Spock’s features became a little more pronounced. Jim quickly handed the ring to him and held out his hand for Spock to put it on his ring finger. And it fit perfectly. At long last, Jim wrapped his arms around Spock’s shoulders and kissed him, pouring gratitude and happiness in the contact of their lips and through his mind to Spock’s, and he felt it echoed just as deeply, as if, in the moments when it really mattered, they were truly one mind.

Jim broke the kiss, another soft, breathless laugh escaping him before he brushed his lips against Spock’s once more, briefly. “Damnit, how do you spring something like that on me and then expect me to simply go to a party and not get you naked and on top of me?” 

There was a small spark of arousal coming from Spock, paired with amusement, and he tilted his head ever so slightly. “It is, as they say, your party. We could be late.” 

“I like the way you think,” Jim laughed and kissed Spock again. 

 

~ The End ~

 


End file.
